


Scarlet

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OC (‘Scarlet’) has been caught writing illegal erotic and romance fiction about Prince Loki in Asgard. She has been arrested and brought to the Palace for trial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Behind the giant gold doors I could hear Odin’s voice booming at the thief who had been called in before me. The royal guards flanking the door shifted a little, toying with the heavy metal staffs in their hands, readying themselves for their next orders.  
  
Soon, the doors opened, and the miserable, shackled crook was manhandled down the hallway by jail wardens, cursing and kicking out at them. Before I had time to even register what was happening, the royal guards roughly pulled on my shoulders and led me into the Royal Council for Justice.  
  
I swallowed. It was like entering a sporting arena. Citizens of Asgard packed the thousand-seat venue, enjoying watching the ruination of us ‘criminals’. The high domed ceiling above only served to create better acoustics, amplifying the commanding tones of Odin, and magnifying the screams of desperation as those on trial were delivered their punishment.  
  
On a large, gilt stage sat Odin upon this throne, his sons Thor and Loki either side of him. In front of them lay a beautifully carved wooden table, where Odin kept his notes on the criminals he would be seeing throughout the afternoon, as well as his wine goblet and plate of fruit.  
  
I hated him. No, scrap that, I _hate_ him.  
  
Thor sits languidly in his seat, looking extremely bored, and motions to a nearby servant to top up his goblet.  
  
Odin huffs and adjusts himself in his seat, eying me curiously as he looks up from his notes.  
  
And I allow myself momentarily to let my eyes wonder to Loki. His green eyes gaze unblinkingly at me as he rests a long finger against his lips, contemplating. I swallow and look down at my feet.  
  
This is going to be difficult.  
  
"NAME?" Odin booms, and startled, I snap my head up to speak.  
  
"Scarlet Rosenthorne, Your Highness," the royal guard at my side calls out.  
  
"CRIME?"  
  
"Female citizen writing and circulating materials of a sexual, liable and shameful nature about a member of the royal family."  
  
I internally cringe. It does indeed sound bad, when you put it like that. Whispers and titters pepper through the crowd.  
  
Odin mutters something that I cannot hear, and starts to scan the documents in his hands.  
  
"GIVE THE ACCUSED A COPY OF THESE DOCUMENTS," Odin orders to the guards near me, and soon I have a stash of papers in my hands.  
  
They are all my Loki fictions.  
  
"I WILL KEEP THIS SHORT MS ROSENTHORNE AS I HAVE A BUSY AFTERNOON. DID YOU WRITE THESE?"  
  
Without looking up at him, my eyes still roving over the papers, I sigh and say yes.  
  
"AND ARE THEY NOT ABOUT A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, A GOD, MY SON LOKI, NO LESS?"  
  
A shocked ‘ooh’ snakes through the crowd, which narks me. This isn’t a pantomime.  
  
"They are indeed, my Lord," I call out, and raise my head to face him.  
  
A small smirk plays on his lips. “WELL, I AM SURE LOKI, THE JURY, AND ALL WHO ARE HERE WOULD LIKE TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE WRITTEN.”  
  
Oh Gods no, please don’t make me…  
  
"PAGE THREE. SECOND PARAGRAPH. READ."  
  
I stare blankly at him, then cast a glance at Loki who remains gazing pensively at me.  
  
"READ," Odin booms, and I quickly scan the sheets to find the right section.  
  
"L..Loki gripped my wrists in his large, pale hand, pinning me in place as his lips grazed across my sensitive n…nipple…,"  
  
The crowd murmur, giggle, some snort with laughter, and I feel my cheeks burn red. Yet as I continue to read, I begin to remember why I wrote this in the first place.  
  
_____________________________  
  
As a girl in Asgard, I was raised to not talk about sex, or romance, or even flirting. All of us were raised this way. The most we were told was that we would either be married off to a boy with a suitable income and social situation, or a man would decide to take you as his wife and that would be that. Sex was something private, not to be discussed, either a mysterious thing ‘other people did’, or a functional action - a means to have children.  
  
My parents, my generation, society were all complicit in making sexuality taboo, but Odin and his cronies were the ones that set the foundation for this secrecy.  
  
Sexual fantasies, scenes, situations were all banned, made illegal, in books. Romantic love, too - writers were restricted to familial love, platonic love, and the comfy, safe love that is socially acceptable between married couples. Certainly not fire or longing or self-expression.  
  
It was bad enough in a man was caught writing about such things - large fines and even jail terms were given. But for a woman? Unthinkable.

Unthinkable, until I stumbled upon secret writers in my late teens.

After school, my mother often assigned me chores to do on the way home, including fetching food from the market, or returning books to the Great Library. Late one afternoon, I was waiting in the queue at the library, and swore I saw a man underhandedly pass an assistant librarian a book, in the same manner one would expect a drug deal to be made.

My curiosity plagued me for weeks afterwards. And so, I returned one afternoon to the library, seeking out the library assistant I had seen accepting the hidden book. I found her dusting shelves - a woman in her twenties, I would have guessed, a calm smile on her face.

“Where do you keep the other stash?” I brazenly asked, not knowing what else to say.

The assistant frowned. “Do you mean the…?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

She crossed her arms and peered at me curiously. “How did you find out about us?”

I swallowed, and ummed. “Well, someone at school got one, and told me about it, and that if I came to you, you could lend me one too.”

I was utterly bullshitting my way through, but it seemed to work, and she led me through racks of books towards a small door at the far end of the library.

I silently followed her, and was taken down into the basement.

With the flick of a light switch, I found myself at the threshold of a huge underground library, cavernous and cellar-like.

And that was my introduction to illegal fiction.

I couldn’t get enough. Books and books about love, about attraction, about sex - things I had never read about or even knew about. Every new story was like embarking on a secret adventure, and I couldn’t get enough.

And I began to write. Not the dull things they made us write at school - illicit, illegal things. Things that young women should not write about. Yet surrounded and inspired by these wonderful fictions I had discovered under the library, I could not help myself. I had to write.

And as I wrote, and shared my work, I began to get praise. I would leave my writings at the secret library, and a week later would take a peek at them, only to find words of encouragement scribbled in the margins by other writers.

Everyone used pseudonyms - including me - and I wasn’t always sure who might be a male or female writer.

I came across writing to do with the Gods - Thor and Loki, mostly. Their personalities and looks often seemed to be used in tales of romance, heartache, and sex. Many writers wrote about being involved with them, however there was one writer who I adored who wrote their tales as if they were Loki, writing from Loki’s perspective about his relationships - the Green Serpent was their pen name. I confess these works fired me up to write fictions about Loki… even though I hadn’t ever met the Prince.

I never thought I would meet him.

I never thought I would stand before him, reading my words to him.

My intention was to exchange hidden fantasies and explore love with others who felt suppressed and alone under Odin’s cultural rule.

Which is why, as I finish reading aloud, I feel defiant rather than embarrassed.

“… he gently sank inside of me, his eyes unblinking as words of love tumbled from his lips.”

Love. That is all it is about for me.

And yet every face in the crowd either laughs or frowns in disgust at my words. Even the guards either side of me have relaxed their positions, unable to stand stock-still as usual.

“ENOUGH!” Odin roars over the noise, and the crowds begin to quieten.  
“THE MATTER IS QUITE CLEAR AND THERE IS NO NEED TO RUN IT BY A JURY,” Odin nods towards the jury, who simple nod back to him.

“MS ROSENTHORNE, DO YOU NOT PLEAD GUILTY TO THE CHARGE OF WRITING DEFAMATORY, ILLEGAL FICTION ABOUT A ROYAL GOD?”

I close my eyes briefly, and take a deep breath.

“I am not guilty.”

A tremour of shocked noises comes from the crowd. Before Odin can interject, I begin.

“Yes, I wrote these stories. Stories about love, happiness, passion, all the things that make us human and make us alive. All the things that you have made illegal, Your Grace. I do this because many people need these stories. People need to know what it feels like to love and be loved. People need reminding that courting can be playful, not just a business transaction. People need to know that their fantasies aren’t weird - that we all have secret dreams that might be universal.”

Odin simply smiles slyly at me, a comeback or punishment on the tip of his tongue. I know I am destined for some kind of hardship, there is no point in trying to appease to Odin’s good side, if he has one, and so I might as well go down swinging.

“I never meant to spread lies about Loki’s character.” I briefly glance at the Prince, who remains as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on me. “My stories explore love, and sex with respect. It’s my intention that Loki comes across as a possibility that men can be gentle, commanding, playful, strong, all those things, rather than stereotypes. Because I believe that to be the truth. I do not believe that what I‘ve written is defamatory.”

Thor yawns, and Odin slams his papers down on the table. Loki remains focused on me.

“PRISON,” Odin booms, and the guards haul me out of the Council hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Brusque hands tear at my clothes, and I am shoved under an open shower under the watchful eyes of guards.

Still damp, I am made to wear a thin cotton shift dress, off-white in colour.

I am led to my cell. I pass cells full of men, mostly, who I suspect are here for far worse crimes than I - murderers, rapists, assassins.  

My cell is almost empty, save for a small single bed and a chair. There is a small barred window high on the wall, too high for me to reach. I also have a bed pan.

Moments after the guards leave me alone to get used to my new ‘home’, my cell door opens and a masked man with an electric razor enters. I flinch and ball up at the end of my bed, trying to protect myself, fearing what he may do. He turns the razor on, and begins to shave my hair.

I will not cry in front of him. I will not show anger. I will not show shame.

Once finished, he leaves me alone again, only this time, with long strands of my hair scattered on the floor by my bed.

I run my hand over my head. It feels slightly prickly. The air is cool against my skin.

Still on guard, not sure if I’ll have another surprise visitor, I stay on alert, sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting.

__________________________

I waited and no one came.

Not even a message to let me know how long I my sentence would be.

I collapsed asleep some fourteen hours later.  
_________________________

I awoke to the sound of a large clank as someone opened the little flap at the bottom of my cell door, shoving through a bowl of lukewarm porridge. I ate it gratefully, unsure as to when my next meal would be, then went back to bed.   
______________________  
A week had passed. My weight was dropping. The hairs on my head were starting to grow through, which was itching me. I hadn’t been given a pen, so had nothing to write with, and I was desperate for something to do. It seemed that I had been placed in a cell next to a mad woman, who talked to herself in words I couldn’t understand, and sometimes cackled hysterically in the night.

Alone with my thoughts, I thought about how I’d managed to get caught.

Of all the dumb luck…

Illegal writing had been going on for years, and whilst those who were caught were punished, it was rare for the police to actively hunt writers down. The ones who got caught did so by being sloppy - announcing to near-strangers that the did some ’naughty writing’ when they were drunk, or accidentally leaving their manuscripts out on their desk for a nosy servant to see.

As for me, I couldn’t be sure exactly how they found out, other than that one evening on my way back from work I was stopped in the street, arrested, and unceremoniously brought to the Palace to await my trial. I can only guess that someone tipped them off.  
___________________________________

It was dark, and I had been dipping in and out of a restless sleep for about three hours. I thought I was hearing things, until the lock on my cell door squeaked as someone slowly pushed the door open.

I grabbed my partially full bed pan from under the bed, holding it in front of me, the only thing I could think of to use as defence.

A tall man in a hooded cape stood in the doorway, and held out a gloved hand to me, as if motioning to me to take it. He whispered “sshh” and began backing out of the door.

The bed pan still in my hand, I tentatively stepped forward, following him, considering that this may be my only shot at getting out of this godforsaken place.

He leads me quietly down the jail corridor, to a door I hadn’t noticed before, and soon we are walking through a cold, damp walkway carved out of stone. The dark rocks are freezing under my bare feet.

The hooded man remains silent, and following his lead, I daren’t speak.

He climbs up an old wooden ladder that leads to the outside, and leans down to help me ascend too. I leave the bed pan on the floor and climb up, the man taking my hand in his when I reach the top and running, dragging me with him, across the Palace grounds. It seems the jail is directly underneath the Royal Estate.

A guard patrols the side wall of the Palace, and my apparent-rescuer motions to me to hide behind a tree. I stay there, in the dark, resting against the reassuring bark, grateful that I can taste the fresh night air rather than stale cell air, when I hear a loud whistle. I carefully peek around the side of the tree, and see the hooded man alone, the guard gone. He motions to me to come join him, so I run quickly across.

He begins to climb up the Palace wall, using jutting stones and gargoyles and turrets and balconies to help him. I follow his actions, step by step, until we are three storeys high. The man swings himself onto a balcony, and ducks inside the dark room beyond.

I manage to swing across, and slip inside too.

And I stop in my tracks.

“Loki?”  
________________________________

His hood now down, the Prince strides across his bed chamber to an impossibly large wardrobe, and begins rifling through its contents.

I stand stunned by the balcony, trying to process in my mind what’s happening.

Loki broke me out of jail. At least that’s what I think he’s doing. Surely he would get in trouble for this. Or does he have a worse punishment for me in mind?

I take a few steps further in the room. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, and watch as Loki extracts a bundle of clothing from the wardrobe, placing it on his large bed. He gives no reply, instead, returning to the wardrobe, crouching to retrieve a pair of boots.

There’s a loud knock on the chamber door. Loki drops the boots on the floor and strides over to me, his eyes blazing. “Hide,” he orders, and in a panic I drop to the floor and crawl under his bed, the heavy blankets draping down to the floor to cover me completely.

I hear the sturdy clicks of Loki‘s boots as he stalks across to open the door, then a man‘s voice, low and gravely, addresses the Prince.

“Your Highness, there is a prisoner loose, the fiction writer. You must come and join your father in the search.”

I think I hear Loki mumble something, then the door shuts with a clank.

I wait for Loki to give me a signal that I can come out.

I hear his boots move across the wooden floorboards, appearing to come nearer to the bed.

I yelp as a leather-gloved hand grabs my ankle firmly and gives it a squeeze, before letting go.

“Come on, you,” Loki says, and I crawl out from under the bed, straightening out my twisted dress as I stand.

The dark-haired Prince is sorting through the assortment of clothing on the bed. “You must go,” he offers me a pair of dark leggings and gives me a worried look. ‘If they find you, they will kill you.’

“Go where?” I blurt, taking the leggings and starting to pull them up. They are far too big for me, the crotch sagging comically down towards my knees.

Loki approaches me, a black cape in his hands. “To the furthest villages of Asgard. I’ll persuade father not to waste manpower on searching too far for you.” He stops in front of me and swirls the cape around my shoulders, concentrating as he fastens it with a bow at the front.

“Here, put these on,” he hands me a pair of his gloves, which again are far too big for me, the ends of the fingers empty and flapping about when I wriggle my fingers. I fasten the gloves at the wrists to make sure they don’t fall off, and when I am finished I notice Loki kneeling before me.

“Foot,” he instructs, and I raise one foot. He holds the back of my calf, as he slides a black boot onto my foot. Again, too big, making my leg look tiny in comparison to my boot-clad foot.

“The other,” Loki looks up at me with a wry smile, and I raise my leg so he can boot my other foot.

He then stands, his eyes running over my body, checking his handiwork. He raises his gloved hands to pull down the cape’s hood over my eyes.

The hood almost blocks my vision, and Loki turns the hem up a little so I can see.

He takes a step back, folding his arms as he appraises my disguise. He chuckles.

“What?” I mumble.

“I’m sorry, you look…,” he looks me over and shakes his head. “Pleasing. Anyway…,” he clears his throat, then stalks up to me, his eyes intense. “Stay by my balcony, until I give you my signal. Then climb down and use my horse to get away.“

“They’ll see me,” I frown.

Loki smiles wryly. “I have a plan. Trust me.”

I nod, trying to collect my thoughts. He turns and heads towards the door to leave.

“Why are you doing this for me?” I whisper.

Loki simply gives me a small smile, then nods solemnly, and leaves, shutting the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

I waited by the balcony, remaining furtively in the darkened corner lest anyone could see me. After about twenty minutes a small green orb of light appeared in front of me. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, however I knew of Loki’s magic and hoped it may be his ‘signal’. Gingerly, I edged across to look over the balcony rail, and sure enough, Loki stood below, his arm raised, beckoning me to descend. A black horse huffed and fidgeted behind him.

I began to climb down the Palace wall as quickly as I could, the oversized boots making it somewhat harder although I was grateful to not be barefoot.

I landed with a dull thump and turned to race towards Loki and the horse, however the Prince had gone.

I whispered a ’thank you’ under my breath, hoping Loki could somehow hear me, and mounted the horse.

Soon I was racing through the dark, the lights of the Palace retreating into the distance. With no money, I had no idea how I could feed myself, where I could stay, what I could do, but the fear of being caught spurred me on, and I kept riding.  
___________________________________________  
  


In the three years since then, I have made some kind of a life for myself. Mountain life is hard, yet the people here have great spirit, and welcomed me in without question despite my initial strange appearance. A lone woman riding into town on a black horse, in a black cloak and man‘s boots, with a shaved head, is certainly an unusual sight for any town.

Hungry and cold, I was taken in by a family in exchange for helping with chores and teaching their children basic maths and writing. As time passed, I managed to join the sole school in the village on a voluntary basis, and after a few months was given a paid position. I could finally afford a little cottage of my own.

I continued to write ‘illicit fiction’, changing my pseudonym, and using the name ’Thomas’ instead of Loki. At least I could not be imprisoned again for treason.  

The village had no library, so I had the Great Library assistant mail illegal books to me every two weeks, and I shared my works with them by mail, too. It was the only connection I had with my old life. I felt comforted by the words of my fellow writers, many of which believed I had been imprisoned forevermore, and didn’t know that this new writer, ‘Village Dweller’, was actually me.

Yet perhaps I should have exerted more caution, as mail can be intercepted.

Walking back from the school to my cottage one dark evening, a horse-drawn carriage charges up behind me, the horses hooves thundering along the path, making me shake. I had never seen a carriage like this in the whole time I had lived here. The carriage was ominously painted black, drawn by six horses, and as it came to a stop just ahead of me, I could make out the uniforms of royal guards.

One approached, and addressed me in a clipped tone of voice.

“Scarlet Rosenthorne, you have been ordered to be brought to the palace. Please come quietly. I would prefer not to handcuff you.”

With a lump in my throat and tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes, I nodded and allowed the guard to help me into the empty carriage.

I sat mutely as we passed my little cottage and wound our way out of the cosy village.

Well this is it, then. I’m going back to jail.  
_____________________________

We arrived at the Palace the next day, late at night. My trepidation kept me awake, otherwise I would have easily fallen asleep.

The carriage jostled to a halt and the doors were swung open. A gloved arm of a guard thrusts inside holding a long dark cape. Needing no further instructions I wrap it around me. I expected a guard to bustle me out, but instead two guards waited patiently outside for me to exit.

I stepped out, observing the high towers of the Palace, beautifully lit by flaming torches. I shuddered as I remembered the jail, and instinctively brought my hand up to my hair, hoping I would not lose it again.

“Hood up,“ the same guard who apprehended me at the village speaks quietly. I nod and cover my head, a little surprised.

“This way, miss,” he nods tightly, and I follow him, the two other guards following behind me.

I am escorted through a back entrance, along dark, empty corridors with cobwebs and no warmth, until we emerge in a dimly lit passageway that finally leads to a small wooden door.

A slight panic rises in my heart. Are they escorting me back to jail, silently, without ceremony? Where in the Palace am I? The cloak and the corridors are giving me flashbacks, and I stall, not wanting to proceed any further. I watch the guard in front of me stride towards the wooden door.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask quietly, assuming that they will either answer ‘jail’ or stay silent.

Instead, the more talkative guard in front of me raps three times on the door with his knuckles, and murmurs “you’ll see.”

________________________________________________

The door is opened by an old maid holding a lantern, her hair tucked into an off-white cap, and she is comparably sort compared to me and the guards. She runs her eyes up and down over me, shakes her head slightly, then motions for me to go with her. “Come on then, let’s be having you,” she mutters, and I leave the guards in the corridor.

The maid walks me down a huge palatial corridor lined with royal portraits. I try not to gape and awe at the opulence, although I have never seen such grandeur before.

Before I have time to think she leads me to the left of the corridor to a wide door flanked with guards. She raps once on the door, and a man’s voice inside calls out “enter.”

I can’t quite recognise the voice, however I’m assuming it’s someone of importance if this door is anything to go by. In my mind I imagine a group of powerful lawmakers and the royals of Asgard, sat around a giant oak table, deciding my fate.

And what if Loki is there? What am I to say to him?

The maid pushes on the door and leaves me to enter the dimly lit room.

I can hear the crackling of a wood fire, the light of which casts some light and shadows across the large room. The giant bed, the tall wardrobe, the balcony…

…and Loki leaning against the wide fireplace.


	4. Chapter 4

_Authors note: Probably NSFW_

“With tender caresses I lay her down upon my bed, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. She stifled a moan as I stroked my palm smoothly up her legs, pushing her petticoats further until they pooled softly around her waist. I kissed her firmly, my chest pushing down against her panting bosom…”

The words glided off Loki’s tongue like treacle, and I almost couldn’t stand. I had never heard a man recite erotic fiction to me before, let alone the handsome Prince himself, and with my emotions running high as it was with thoughts of prison or worse, I almost fell to the ground.

He kept his back to me as he continued to read.

“I raked my fingernails along the inside of her thigh, making her squirm beneath me. Her head thrust back, exposing her pale neck, where my teeth chose to nip and skim across her veins. Her back arched and she bucked against me, my fingers skirting along the edge of her knickers. I would go slow, this time. I would tease her orgasm out of her with deliciously paced coaxing.”

I feel heat forming deep inside of me, and desperately look about the room to distract myself. Perhaps it would be easier if I sat down.

“She pulls against the leather bonds at her wrists,” he continues, as I shuffle over to a high-backed arm chair near the fire. “Yet I simply push her hands further into the bed,” I hear him turn the page.

These are not my words. This is not my writing. Yet somehow it seems familiar. Another illegal book, of course, and a well-written one too.

“ ‘Loki,’ she gasps, her head turning this way and that as I begin to worm my finger under the fabric of her knickers, trailing along the top of her folds, anticipating the wetness she is making for me.”

A Loki fiction. A Loki-perspective fiction. It’s probably by the Green Serpent, one of my favourites.

I shift in the seat, unsure as to what to do. I don’t know why he is reading this to me. And I don’t know why he hasn’t acknowledged my presence yet. When will he stop reading?

“My hungry mouth needs to taste her, just a drop, just to tip her over a little. I quickly slide down her body and plunge my tongue inside of her, making her scream.”

I press my thighs together.

“I raise a hand to cover he mouth, and she keens against my lips as I slowly curl my tongue back out of her.”

Holy crap that Green Serpent is good.

I appraise Loki as he reads. The man I have often fantasised about while writing. His broad back, rising and falling a little underneath his green shirt as he breaths,  and those long legs, shrouded in black leather. His height, his countenance.  That voice, slightly arrogant but also deep and rich.

And he is the man who executed my jail-break.

I can’t take this much longer. I have to know what is going on…

Loki begins to turn, the book still in his hand, and he slowly stalks towards me as he reads.

“’Loki please, I need more,’ she whimpers, and I chuckle against her clit, blowing lightly across her.”

I chew the inside of my cheek as he gets closer, never gazing up from the pages.

“I gently stroke the tip of my nose over her clit,” he stands next to me, and I sink back into the chair. He bends at the waist, his head lowering until his lips are at my ear.

“…and I glide my wet tongue deftly inside of her, pulsing gently, deeper and deeper, until she comes.” I shudder at his whispers, my mind now devoid of all thoughts, only a strong need for release thrumming through me.

I hear him drop the book to the floor with a dull thud, otherwise my ears are filled with the sound of his soft breathing, and the thunderous beating of my heart.

I swallow, unsure as to how to break the silence.

“Do you know who wrote that piece of filth, Miss Rosenthorne?” Loki asks quietly. I momentarily close my eyes, his velvety voice oozing through me.

“N… not me, Sir,” I stammer idiotically.

“No… not you, ‘Jewel Garden,” I blink as he says my old pen-name, and he carefully lowers my hood, shifting to kneel in front of me. I bow my head meekly, not wanting to meet his gaze. Yet he takes my chin between his long fingers and raises my face until our eyes lock.

“The Green Serpent,” a playful smile rests on his lips.

I nod, and he simply gazes back. He then moves his hand to stroke my hair, his eyes roving over me.

“I am sorry for what they did to your hair.”

I blink back at him. What? And oh, Gods, I never thanked him for before…

“I’m so sorry,” I sit upright, startling him a little. “I never was able to say ‘thank you’ for helping me before.”

He bows his head, nodding slightly.

“But, and I do not ask this ungratefully, I’m just curious - why did you set me free?”  
_____________________

He takes my hand and leads me to his bed. My heart constricts and my body freezes in place - as much as I had fantasised about the graceful dark Prince, I was not ready to lie with him.

Sensing my wariness, he lets my hand drop from his, and proceeds to push the bed slowly along the wall, revealing the outline of a door. He pushes against the outline, and the door swings open, a dark opening gaping.

Loki smiles at me.

“Come this way, Jewel.”

What if it is a trap? What if he is to imprison me in there?

As if sensing my thoughts, Loki’s eyes soften and he bites his lip.

“I….,” he stands tall and proud, hands clasped behind his back. “I am the Green Serpent.”


	5. Chapter 5

"I, I don’t believe you." I take a step back. "You are the God of Lies."

His eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features, then he chuckles darkly.

"You will believe me," he growls quietly, and with a small smile he turns and bends slightly to walk through the opening in the wall.

I follow, and Loki turns on a lamp to reveal that we are in a small study. Bookshelves line the walls, and stacks of papers sit in thick piles on a little wooden desk. Quills and ink pots scatter the edge of the desk, and balls of scrunched up paper pool out of a bin in the corner.

I glance at Loki who is eying me warily. He strides across to the desk and begins sorting through the books there, selecting two, then brings them to me, standing tall and dominant on front of me.

They are tales by the Green Serpent, both of which I have read. And loved.

"This doesn’t prove that you wrote them," I murmur as I flick through the pages, smiling to myself as my eyes come to rest on a favourite passage.

"Perhaps this will," Loki says in a low voice, and offers me a handful of handwritten sheets, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

I read the first few lines - a Loki fiction in a similar style to the Green Serpent, but a tale I don’t recognise.

"My latest work."

I look up at the green-eyed prince, black waves framing his angular face, and can’t quite believe he is my favourite writer. The writer I had read and been inspired by for years. With his broad shoulders and royal presence, he seemed far better suited to a life of action than sitting quietly in here, writing.

I worry my lower lip with my teeth, and turn to the last page. It appears to be an unfinished piece. My doubts are starting to dwindle, Although I’m not fully convinced yet.

"I have the original papers for all my fics, Jewel" he tilts his head to the side, gauging my reaction. "I have copies of your works, too."

My eyes widen and I look around the shelves. Oh Gods, I thought he had only been exposed to the extract I had read at my trial. No, instead he has probably read most of the sex scenes and romantic fantasies that I had anonymously bared. For the most part, about a fantasy version of him.

My anonymity now dropped, I feel embarrassingly exposed.

He takes a step closer to me, leaning down so that his face is close to mine.

"I have a kink for defiant women who finally submit to me, which I blame entirely on your writing," he whispers slowly, his eyes unblinking, entrancing me.

I look down, fiddling with the papers in my hands.

"I sometimes touch myself because of your words, Jewel."

I gasp and raise a hand to my face, equally turned on and embarrassed by his admission.

He takes a step closer, his breath ghosting across my forehead, and the fabric of his green shirt mere inches from me. He entirely blocks my view.

"And I write with the intention of making you come, in return." His breathing is ragged, and I close my eyes, overwhelmed.

"Have I ever made you come?" He breathes, and I can’t stop a moan from passing my lips.

He has indeed. As a single woman living in sexually repressed  
Asgard, illegal fictions (including the Green Serpents stories) were often the closest thing I ever had to experiencing sexual situations. No man had ever brought me to orgasm before, and I didn’t think one could. Yet one empty, dreary afternoon I had cosied up with a new fic by the Green Serpent, and ended up so surprisingly aroused that I took to bed, replaying the written erotic scenes in my mind until I came, screaming Loki’s name.

I blush at the memory, and blush more as my thoughts turn briefly towards imagined positions with Loki…

I shake my head to clear the thoughts, my sensibilities returning. I turn to walk out of the little writing den. A strong grip pulls at my wrist, restraining me.

"Get off of me," I groan, twisting my arm in an attempt to break free, and turn to face Loki whose face is lit with panic.

"Don’t go," he asks, "not yet."

I pull my arm back and he finally lets go.

"I need answers," I growl. "Now".

——————

"Did you know who I was during the trial?"

Loki stands defiantly before me, his legs apart and arms crossed. Even at my full height I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eye. “Not until you read those delightful words of yours, Jewel”

I frown.

"I never know who will be on trial. Odin does not share such information."

"Then why did you not interject and stop him from sending me to jail, if you are such a fan of my work?"

The corner of his lips twitch as he tries to stop a smile. “As the Prince, I cannot be seen to defend an illegal writer. But as the Green Serpent, I can gladly get you out of the Asgardian prison system.”

"Why have you brought me here now?" I almost answer the question in my own mind - surely he’s come for payback. Surely he didn’t break me out out of the goodness of his heart - I owe him, and I owe him big. It is likely, from his actions so far, that he wants sexual favours in return. I gaze numbly at the floor.

"Sit, then I will tell you," he gestures to the fireside chair behind me and with a small sigh I sit.

Loki stands by the fire, resting his elbow on the heavy marble mantel. He looks beautiful in the amber glow of the flames, yet I keep my guard up as i know that beauty can be deadly.

"Odin has fallen ill, unfortunately," he says drily. "He has divided and handed over governing powers to both myself and my brother. I now have more respected influence over Asgard." He raises a devilish eyebrow.

"In plain terms, Jewel, I can take down Odin’s archaic cultural laws so that writers such as you and I can be celebrated, not vilified."

I fidget with the ends of the sleeves of my cloak, mulling his words over.

"I want you to be here with me as I dismantle Odin’s old laws.” I look up at him. His face is quite serious.

"I had never met an illicit writer until you stepped into my fathers court. I could scarcely believe you were the infamous Jewel Garden herself."

My eyes bulge. Infamous?

He crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet in front of me.

"Since I sent you away," he continues, "I have been biding my time, waiting until I could see you again under different circumstances. That time is now."

He carefully takes my hand in his, gazing into my eyes, anticipating my response.

"Do not think of me as Loki. I am the Green Serpent, a fellow writer, who hates Odin’s old laws that keep our dreams underground." His voice is quiet. "I am in a unique position now. I want your words - our words - to be respected, not mocked or shut down."

A glimmer of hope flickers inside of me. Perhaps I can believe him.

"Jewel," he edges closer, a long finger stroking along my jaw. "You have inspired me in ways you will never know. Stay at the palace with me. I want to get to know the lady behind the words."

I swallow.

"Do not make me beg."

I gasp, and look up to meet his eyes, a playful sparkle in them.

"I know from your writing that you like to make Loki beg…" He winks, and I retract my hand from his, startled.

"Stop it." I mumble.

Loki leans in further, resting his elbows on my chair’s armrests.

"Stop. What?" He goads.

"I can’t work with you if you… you… do that …."

"Do what, Jewel?" His voice is soft as he angles his face closer to mine, his lips now so close to mine that I can feel his breathe ghosting across my skin.

I close my eyes. “Stop being so sexy” I mutter petulantly, and I hear him chuckle.

"Very well," he pulls away, and I open my eyes to see him stand and take a couple of steps back.

He extends an arm formally out to me, offering his hand.

"Scarlet Rosenthorne, the great Jewel Garden, will you join me here at the Palace as I rewrite Asgardian history?"

My head feeling slightly giddy, I reach out to shake his hand.

"Count me in."


	6. Chapter 6

"You must be tired, little one. I have had Elsa prepare the guest quarters for you," Loki looks at me from under his brow. My hand still in his, he gently tugs, and I stand.

I nod my thanks, feeling the fatigue wrack my shoulders. I feel like I have been emotionally fried. I just want to curl into a corner and process everything.

"… Yet, when was the last time you have been held safely in someones arms as you sleep?" He continues, and takes a step towards me, mere inches between us.

With little effort Loki wraps one arm around my shoulders, then hooks another under my knees and carries me bridal-style to his large bed. I am almost too surprised and too overwhelmed to protest.

"Loki…," I mumble, and he slowly lays me down on top of the covers, placing my head on the soft silk pillows. I’m still shrouded in the cloak and my day clothes.

Silently, Loki slips my shoes off then saunters away.

All I can hear is the sound of the fire crackling. I try to stay awake, curious as to if and when Loki will return, yet exhaustion gets the better of me. Soon my eyelids drop and I descend into a deep sleep.

____________________

Endless corridors. Mean eyes. The interiors of carriages. The nightmare played a loop in my brain, and I woke with a gasp, the hum of fear coursing through me.

Fear was soon replaced with curiosity.

Loki, topless in soft flannel pajama bottoms, was spooning me.

My heavy cloak was now hanging from the wardrobe door, and I was now under the covers, still dressed.

Loki’s muscular arms tighten across my torso as I try to move, and he makes a small grunt in protest.

"I’m too hot," I mumble, and he squeezes my sides.

"I just need to take this dress off, and these tights."

He thinks about it for a minute, then decides to release me from his grip.

I am sure seeing me in my underwear is enough incentive to let me go.

I shift to sit on the edge of the bed, my back turned to him. I divest my layers, until I am sitting in a short rose-coloured under-dress, my underpants and bra.

I hear the covers shift behind me, then feel Loki’s fingers stroke up and down my spine.

"Come back," he asks quietly.

I smile to myself, and gladly slide under the covers, keeping my back to him. He resumes his position, pulling me close to him, and intertwines his legs with mine.

"There," he whispers, his mouth close to my ear, "protected and secure."

A thrill courses through my body.

I feel Loki’s chest rise and fall behind me, and listen to him breathing close to my ear. I am in the arms of the Green Serpent, the writer who speaks to my heart and groin. And I am in the arms of Prince Loki, the man I have based many of my fantasies on. How did I get here?

"Scarlet," he murmurs.

I moan in response.

He chuckles, sending little puffs of breath across my neck, making me shiver pleasantly.

"I like holding you."

"I like being held by you," I almost reply, but bite my tongue.

"Did you have a bad dream?" A hand shifts from my waist, trailing up along my side, circling my shoulder, then plunging into my hair. I shift a little.

"Yes," I whisper, and Loki presses a chaste kiss behind my ear.

"Am I making you feel any better?" He nuzzles the tip of his nose along my throat. "Am I helping you forget about it?"

I giggle, and he nips at my neck.

"Hmm," he groans, "that’s what I wanted to hear."

His lips back at my ear, his voice caresses me. “Go back to sleep.”

I smile as a well-behaved Norse God holds me peacefully in his arms, this time dreaming of firesides and kisses.

___________________

I roused slowly from slumber, feeling noticeably cooler this time.

I was alone in Loki’s expansive bed.

I propped myself up on my elbows, looking around his chambers, but the Prince was nowhere to be found.

A little disappointed, I bowed my head, considering getting up, or waiting for him, then noticed a white speck out of the corner of my eye.

On Loki’s pillow, next to mine, was a little white envelope with ‘Scarlet’ written across it in black ink script. I take it, sitting up to open it.

On a folded note on ivory paper, two simple words are written.

"Thank you"

___________________________

Elsa, the maid from last night, scuttled around Loki’s chambers, under instruction by the Prince to look after me this morning. I took a bath in Loki’s fine bathing suite, and Elsa had prepared for me a large breakfast platter with pastries and fruit and eggs. I had never felt so well-treated before. It was as if I had been brought to an expensive hotel.

I took my food out onto the balcony and sat in the sunlight, watching the guards and Palatial attendants bustle about below.

Once finished and full, Elsa busied herself with clearing my plate away, then took my tired clothes away to be laundered. She laid out some garments on the bed for me to wear, then left.

Curious, I went to peruse them, and was surprised at the selection. Had Loki picked these out himself?

There was a pair of small black leggings, a red tunic, a waistcoat, and a long coat.

Every garment was… tactile.

The leggings were shiny, almost PVC.

The tunic was silken, as soft as luxury underwear.

The waistcoat was of soft angora.

And the long coat was of velvet, with white fur lining the collar and cuffs.

If I wore all of this at the same time I would be swaddled in sensual textures.

I chuckled to myself, and began to dress. I suppose wearing the leggings and tunic wouldn’t hurt. It would certainly be better than wearing nothing but my undergarments.

The gaping opening in the wall next to the bed, leading to Loki’s personal study, caught my curiosity again. I finished doing up the buttons of the tunic and walked into his den.

My eyes rove the shelves. Many of these illegal books I have read, some not, and I smile as I see my works here too. As my fingers wander along the book spines, I trail over some of the Green Serpents. And not all of his writing is erotic.

_The Cabin_. It was about a Prince who, feeling trapped by Palatial life, fled to live feral in an otherwise uninhabited forest. Resigning himself to the idea that no woman would ever love him, poor and lonely as he, he spends his days chopping trees and carving small trinkets, mutely selling them at a small local market. A regular customer shows interest in him, and slowly but surely, a relationship develops. To cut a long story short, they fall in love, and he finds a happiness he’d never known.

Loki wrote that.

_Sweet Georgia_. A Prince goes undercover as a fisherman to investigate a murder plot, one which would kill the Prince. He finds a stowaway on the boat, who helps him handle the plotters. Needless to say, amongst the action and adventure, the undercover Prince falls in love with the stowaway, as well as life at sea. They take down the scheming criminals, marry, and live happily in their quiet fishing village evermore.

Again, this came from the mind of Loki. Amongst the flirting and seduction there is a man who dreams of love.

I hear dull clanking coming from Loki’s chambers, and swiftly exit the little book den, plopping myself down on the bed, feigning that I am still getting dressed.

Loki strides in, tall in his boots and leathers, and pauses momentarily as he sees me in my new attire. His eyes rove up and down my body, almost comical in his obviousness, then he takes a few more steps towards me.

Before he can say anything, I speak.

"Where did you go?"


	7. Chapter 7

He clasps his hands behind his back and chuckles, looking at the floor. He then looks up at me through his eyelashes. “Did you miss me, Jewel?”

"Um, I just, uh…," I stammer, not expecting that sort of a reply.

He takes a step closer to me, his eyes narrowing. “That colour becomes you very well, especially when you blush.”

I look away, fiddling with the buttons on the velvet coat. I hear him take another step to me, leather squeaking slightly.

"Although I wonder how lovely you may look with your hair up," he murmurs, reaching out and running his fingers through a lock of my hair near my ear. "I have been musing on the nape of your neck all morning."

I turn to face him, having to lean back slightly with my neck back in order to meet his towering gaze. He guides his fingers to rest under my chin.

"Stand," he commands, and for some reason, my body unconsciously obeys.

Curse him.

"I wonder indeed what _you_ have been up to this morning,” he runs a hand along my shoulder, then glides it down the top of my arm gently, sending a thrill through me. “Bathing in the finest oils of Asgard,” his voice drops to a whisper and he leans in to sniff my neck. “Caressing yourself in my bath tub, perhaps thinking about my skin gliding smoothly next to yours.” His fingers end continue their descent until they reach my hand. He slowly takes my hand in his and pulls it upwards.

"Were you thinking of me, Jewel?" he drags his lips across the skin of my throat then takes my forefinger and begins kissing the tip of it.

"I…," I garble, my brain fogging over, and he gazes at me as he snakes his long tongue along the side of my finger.

"Loki please…," I begin, wanting him to stop so I can think straight.

"Please what, temptress?" he begins lapping his smooth tongue flatly across my knuckles.

"Oh Gods," I quickly pull my hand away, and bow my head. "I can’t do this Loki, not now."

I watch his booted feet take a step back, then he takes my hand in his carefully.

"Jewel…," he begins, his voice low. I sigh, and he squeezes my hand. "Scarlet…,"

I look up and the flirtatious, sexual being has been replaced with a hurt looking young man, wide eyes gazing at me in confusion.

"This is too much… I… you’re overpowering me and…," I bluster, a feeling of awkwardness between us now. "I don’t know what to do when you’re… seducing me."

He raises his eyebrows, his eyes soft. “All you have to do is… let me.”

I chew on the inside of my lip. This is all far too soon. Isn’t it? I haven’t known a man to be like this before, over me. Guys have either been politely flirtatious, not outrageously so, or of course there are the occasional creeps who are all over you in the hope you will bed them sooner rather than later.

I don’t sense that Loki is just trying to bed me. Let’s face it, I am quite a plain-looking girl, and he could have his pick of all the beauties of Asgard. Moreover, he could have made his move last night or even this morning. Perhaps he has genuine affection for me. But I’m not ready to let my guard down yet.

"Please?" Loki interrupts my thoughts, and I let my hand drop from his. I close my eyes briefly, and take a deep breath. "I’ll try. This is new to me. Please don’t push me too fast."

I am rewarded with a joyous smile. I groan to myself. What am I letting myself get into?

________________________

Loki leans in closer to me, nibbling at the end of his pen. “You are quite alluring when you are concentrating.”

"Stop it."

I re-focus on the statute in my hands. We are in a large boardroom, waiting to meet with members of the Asgardian Council and legal system. While I had been relaxing this morning, Loki had been arranging meetings and gathering evidence. Whilst Loki can create new laws, they still need to be passed by leading figures of the Asgard judiciary, and we need to present a reasonable, justifiable argument for why we want to change Odin’s cultural laws. If things get really heated, they may determine that our desired changes are sanctioned by Odin, and of course that would kill our campaign.

Loki smirks, and rests his elbows on the dark wood table, watching me. “You are going to bewitch them.”

I eye him warily. “You may find me charming, but there will be some prominent figures who are used to playing hard-ball, some of whom are Odin’s cronies. Now is not the time to toy with me, Loki.”

He bites his lip. “Later, then?”

I groan, and the large boardroom doors swing open, a group of senior men filing in. They bow towards Loki before taking their seats, glancing over me as they sit. I am the youngest in the room, and it appears that they are not used to seeing a woman in a meeting such as this either.

I cast a glance at Loki, and he begins. “Welcome, gentlemen. This is Ms Rosenthorne, who has been leading with me on the proposal. I trust you have not left all your manners at home today.”

I blush as the older men stand back up, their hands at their sides, and nod their heads, murmuring “pleased to meet you”.

"Very well," Loki smiles wryly, and they sit. "Assuming that you have read the preliminary documents, I shall skip the pleasantries and let us begin."

Under the table, Loki’s hand brushes searchingly across my thigh until it finds my hand. He holds it, skimming his thumb over mine soothingly as he leads the room in a heated debate.


	8. Chapter 8

_Authors note: this is not the end. Also - I'm back at work so updates won't be as frequent. I'll try my best :)_

Loki let me take the floor, argue the case, negotiate the wording of new laws, and he spoke up for me when it appeared I was not being properly respected or listened to. "Do not rile a God, citizen," he had seethed at the put-out councilor.

By then end of the meeting, we had pretty much got what we wanted with a few caveats and clauses. The building of a new library was to go ahead. Pardons for those previously charged with illegal writing were allowed, although this was to be done in secret with no media coverage. And there was to be no large announcement about the new law passing - new 'illicit' works were simply to be given a blind eye, rather than considered an illegal text. The implementation of these were to be given control to Loki and myself. All in all, I thought it was a great result. However, as I looked at Loki as we walked out of the boardroom, he wasn't smiling. He strode ahead of me, his head somewhat down.

I followed him down the corridor, turning a corner towards the lifts. As I turned the corner I almost walked into him as he grabbed me and gave me a massive bear hug.

"We did it," he whispered happily in my ear. "You were wonderful, Scarlet."

"Loki," I gasp, squirming a bit and push against his chest. "You're gonna squeeze the air out of my lungs."

He relaxes his grip a little and pulls back, grinning down at me.

"I don't get it, you confusing man," I mumble. "You didn't look happy when we left...,"

He squeezes my waist in his large hands. "I had to play it cool in front of those old fuddy duddies." He nuzzles his nose against mine. "Show them who's boss."

I laugh. "Well played, my Prince."

"Hmmm," he rocks me gently in his arms, and I wonder if he is going to kiss me.

Across the hallway from us I hear a bang, and turn to see one of those fuddy duddies amble out of the gentleman's washroom. I quickly pull away from Loki, not wanting the man to view me as a plaything of the Prince. It may undermine our success in the boardroom.

Loki gives me a small nod of understanding as he lets me go, then presses the lift button on the wall by us. The man comes over and waits with us.

__________________________

"Oh, goodness!" she presses her hands to her mouth as Loki hands over the little envelope. She looks inside to see her official letter of pardon, stamped with the royal seal, as well as some money notes - the return of the fine money she had had to pay when she was caught. She would never know that the money came from Loki personally.

"This is so unexpected," her eyes gleam, a little watery. "This is enough money to fix my roof! Bless you, bless you both," she bounces on the spot and we nod our goodbyes to the last person on our list.

We had spent the afternoon traveling from one part of Asgard to another, visiting the twenty or so previously criminalised writers in person. Loki kept the hood of his cape up the whole time, tying his black hair back and dressing slightly down so as not to be easily recognised. He'd even managed to find a ludicrous fake black beard to wear, tied on with elastic thread, which he would stroke now and again. We presented ourselves simply as messengers of the Palace. It had been a wonderful experience to be bearers of good news, as well as get to see the faces of my fellow writers. Knowing that anonymity is important, whether our writing is legal or not, I did not reveal myself to be Jewel Garden.

Exiting the little house, we begin to walk up the cobbled garden path when the heavens open and rain begins to pour down. We retreat to the shelter of the porch.

The tapping of raindrops on the wooden awning above us is loud. I wrap my coat tighter about me, eying specks of glistening wet scattered in its fabric.

Loki is quiet beside me, as he pulls his hood down momentarily to take off the wiry beard.

I watch him and giggle, making him pause.

"Have you ever kissed a man with a beard as fine as mine, fair maiden?" he lowers the beard back into place, and waggles his eyebrows at me.

I hoot with laughter, and he wraps an arm around me, pulling me close.

He sighs contentedly against me, and I start tugging the silly beard down under his chin to expose his jaw. He watches me warily, as I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Today, I had felt like I had truly been with the Green Serpent, not the haughty and intimidating Prince. Of course, Loki was both, yet now I had seen both sides of him, it made Loki as a whole more appealing. He was the man who made a stand for me earlier in the boardroom, the man who personally delivered pardons to the writers, the man who wrote of leaving the Palace and living a simple life with his love. He was also the man who had a wicked way with words and could tease me to the brink of coming without even needing to touch me.

My guard was beginning to lower.

As I pull my lips away from his skin, Loki shifts his head a little and looks down at me. His eyes not breaking contact from mine, he raises a gloved hand to cup my chin, holding my head still, as he leans in to kiss my lips.

I moan as another firm, gloved hand snakes up my back to grip the back of my neck, immobilising my head, and I go limp as he explores my mouth with his tongue gently, before slowly sucking my tongue with his lips. As his mouth slips from the tip of my tongue I pant loudly, trying to breath and trying to stand, my body fighting to regain some control.

Loki drops his hand from the back of my neck and instead wraps his arm round the back of my waist, then turns me so my back is pressed against the wooden frame of the porch. Keeping me supported, he leans his body close to mine, blocking my view and cloaking me in his scent.

And I feel... panic.

I raise my hands to push at his chest.

"Loki, I need some space, please...," I duck my head and slip away from him, not wanting to see his face as I do so.

The rain is beginning to dry up, and I dash down the path to the cobbled street where our horses are waiting. I hear Loki's boots following me a few paces behind.

___________________________

The ride back to the Palace was quiet, and felt longer than it probably really was. Loki rode next to me, his eyes forward, on the road, and I spent the time trapped with my thoughts.

I had felt physically hemmed in and out of control. Some self-preservation instinct had kicked in and made me scared, wanting to get away from him.

The crazy thing is, this is the kind of stuff I would write about in my fantasy stories. In my imagination, having a man take the lead would make me swoon. And yet, when it actually happened in reality, I freaked.

I look across to him, his face dipped sadly - not sulkily or in a way to make me feel bad - just hurt, more than anything.

I do like him. I really do.

"Loki," I whisper, the word sounding loud after hours of silence.

He tilts his head to look at me, smiling slightly.

I look down at the horses reins in my gloved hands as I start to speak. "I'm sorry."

He is silent beside me.

"I freaked out. I got scared."

"I would never mean to scare you, Scarlet," he says softly and sincerely. "I thought it would make you happy."

"I know," I swallow.

"I am trying to woo you in the ways that you have written about."

I briefly close my eyes, fighting back tears.

"I know," I exhale, a mass of emotions stirring around my heart.

"Loki…," I stare blankly at my horses head as it bobs each time it walks. "Even though I write about this stuff, I’ve never…," I blush, and take a deep breath. "I’ve never had a man take control before. In my head it seems wonderful, but…"

"Woah, boy," Loki calls out next to me and brings his horse to a stop. I turn my head to look back and see he is dismounting. He then strides over to my horse and holds its reins, for me to dismount too.

I can't catch his eye to figure out his mood or what he is up to. Instead I watch him lead the horses to a nearby tree where he ties their reins.

"Loki...?" I mutter, folding my arms about my waist. He comes over to me, his face mostly shielded by his hood, and wraps an arm around my shoulders, leading me to a patch of grass near the tree.

"Please sit down, Scarlet," he says in a soft low voice, taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. Confused, I do as he says, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Loki drops down to kneel behind me, wrapping his arms around me to take both my hands in his, and rests his head on my shoulder. The bushy black beard bunches up.

I sigh, and gaze at our hands. His warmth relaxes me.

"I want you to feel safe," he murmurs, and begins rocking me gently in his arms. "I want you to feel safe enough that you can loose control. Only then can you be in the bliss you deserve. I want to give you that. I want to give you something you've never had before."

I bow my head. "I've never felt that safe before with anyone. Only in dreams... only in the things I write."

He squeezes me tighter, nuzzling so that his hair strokes against my neck.

"I want to explore this, with you. I do want to…. I want my dreams to be real," I whisper. "I’m just scared…"

Loki reaches a hand up and places it over my heart.

"Scared of your own desires, Scarlet," he murmurs by my ear. "That breaks my heart."

I relax back against his chest, and he squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"Tell me what you’re scared of," he nuzzles his nose next to my earlobe, the fake beard scratching against my neck. "Promise I won’t tell anyone."

His sweet voice cracks me open, and somehow I relent, airing all my doubts.

Loki rested his head on my shoulder, humming and squeezing me in response to each one.

Once I had finished, he turned my face to look at him. His wide eyes bore into mine. “You are brave, you are powerful, you have me in your hands.” He bites his lip. “Take a step towards what you really want.”

He leans in and takes my earlobe between his teeth, tugging playfully. “Obliterate your fears, with me. Let me show you that it’s safe to let go. Lower your guard, for me. The soft side of you wants to be adored. Let me be the one to do it. Let me…”

He pulls down his beard to rest under his chin, then kisses me gently on the cheek. His smooth lips linger warmly on my skin, and he pulls away so slowly it’s as if he can’t bear to not touch me.

I close my eyes, a dizzy haze clouding all the mind-chatter, and with a loud exhale I sigh ‘yes’.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author’s note: Major props to[Froofie](../../../users/froofie) whose fics have inspired me and helped me get my writing mojo back._ _Thank you guys for bearing with me, I hope this makes up for the wait…_

__________________________________

Earlier that morning, just before leaving for a meeting with the new library planners, he had asked me to consent to a ‘trust exercise’, and had said that I would “thoroughly enjoy it”. I looked a little warily at him, but his boyish smile had seemed to melt my heart and I agreed.

I had rather naively wondered if it would be the ‘fall backwards and I’ll catch you’ exercise.

Instead, after having a long bath in lieu of Loki coming back, I had opened the bathroom door to find the rest of the chambers lit by candles, Loki standing next to the chair by the great fire with a plate of muffins in his hand.

"Scarlet…," he purred, taking a spoonful of muffin and suggestively pushing it into his mouth, before slowly pulling the empty spoon back out again. His eyes never left mine.

I felt like a rabbit caught in headlights, and held on a little tighter to the short white towel wrapped around me.

______________________

I soon found myself blindfolded, tied naked to a chair with satin scarfs, with just enough wriggle room that I could tug against the binding with my wrists and ankles yet tight enough that I couldn’t slip free. My bare feet rested on the warm wooden floor, the heat from the nearby fireside keeping me comfortable.

"Open up," he said in a low voice, and the scent of something warm, sweet and sugary played under my nostrils.

I let my mouth open and a metal spoon edged in, feeding me a chunk of a just-baked chocolate chip muffin.

Yet as i began to eat, I noticed something distinctly chewy. Not fudge…

"Marshmallow?" I smiled, my eyes roving for an answer in the dark.

"Mm-hmm," he murmurs in response, and with delight I swallow down the sugary treat, looking forward to devouring the rest of it as I hear him scraping at the bowl to get my next spoonful.

"Open," he commands, and swiftly I feel warm lips press to mine, his cheeky tongue giving my bottom lip a quick lick before he pulls away with an audible smack. I squirm against my bonds, feeling giggly.

Soon enough he presses the spoon to my lips, and as I open traces of molten chocolate and marshmallow stick to my lips, before the chunk of muffin enters my mouth. As I chew I can’t help but notice the sticky sweetness on my lips. My hand instinctively goes to brush it away, yet is only able to pull against the soft satin tie.

"Mucky pup," he mutters lovingly, and I feel his warm breath by my jaw as a finger trails across my lip. I poke my tongue out to lick at it, and he strokes the side of my tongue softly.

"More?" he breathes against my cheek, and I nod, grinning.

Hi breath moves away and I hear the spoon against the ceramic bowl. My leg is bouncing lightly, with happiness and excitement.

"Greedy girl…," he growls playfully, and as he brings another spoonful to my lips, I feel an inquisitive slender finger hook under the side of my panties.

I momentarily freeze, clenching slightly.

"Chew," he breathes over my mouth, and his lips part mine for a languid open kiss as his finger begins trailing up and down my wet folds. His tongue dances with mine, and all I can taste is chocolate, marshmallow and him. It is almost too much as he edges the tip of his finger inside of me and I scream a muffled cry against his mouth.

He pulls away, his finger withdrawing, and I am left panting and wanting, bound and blindfolded to this damn chair.

"Loki," my head hangs, wishing I could see what the trickster was up to.

"Mmmm," I hear him in front of me, and the sounds of soft chewing. "This certainly is delicious."

I giggle, and he leans in closer, his body heat ghosting across my chest, neck, face, before he plants sloppy chocolatey kisses along my cheek. His fingers delicately trail through my hair reassuringly.

"Plenty more for you, Scarlet," he pulls away, and I smack my lips in anticipation of another spoonful.

"Open for me," the familiar scent of muffin floats by, and my taste buds are soon dazzled again with spongy gooey yumminess.

I swoon, my eyelids closed behind the blindfold, and find myself relaxing back into the chair as I chew slowly, savouring the bite.

"Fuck!" My eyes fly open, seeing only darkness, as I feel Loki’s tongue snake between my legs and enter me. My hands want to grip onto the sides of the chair, yet they can’t, and my mouth is full of food, so even though I want to gasp and moan I can’t yet, and Loki pulses in and out, in and out, fucking me with his thick dexterous tongue.

_Oh jesus, oh jesus_

My teeth gnash desperately at the muffin and I manage to swallow, gasping as my mouth is suddenly emptied and I pant his name as I grind my hips down against his mouth.

He trails his tongue out of me, the tip drawing a line against the inside of my walls, then gives my clit a flick.

"Insatiable," his low voice rumbles against my sensitive nub, and I feel my thighs clench as they want to wrap around his head, but _damn these scarves…_

Another scrape of the bowl, and the scent of warm muffin nearby.

"I made these for you," he whispers, planting a soft chaste kiss against the corner of my mouth. I can’t help but smile at his sweetness. Then I taste myself on his lips and my eyes roll back in their sockets, thinking about his mouth on me.

"Open," he mouths against my lips, and I do, my jaw lazily dropping. His mouth pulls away, and I briefly swallow, shifting a little on the chair in expectation - of either a spoonful to eat, or his tongue back between my legs.

"Oh gods," I curse as something warm, round, and soft brushes lightly against my lips.

Skin.

The scent of Loki, concentrated.

I lick the underside of his head and my hands pull at their binds as they want to reach up and grab his hips, to hold him as I suck at him, but instead I can only lean forward, taking him softly in my mouth. He stays still, letting me dictate how deep I want to go. Every now and then he twitches in my mouth, emitting little moans as my lips and tongue run back and forth over him.

The mixture of him with the aftertaste of the muffin makes my mind hazy, and I lap unthinkingly along the vein of his thick penis, just happy to be here, just happy to taste him.

Slowly, his length slides incrementally out of my mouth, and as I sit panting, wanting more, more Loki, he shovels another spoonful of muffin in my mouth.

I laugh around the spoon, muttering his name affectionately, and I hear him quietly chuckle in front of me.

"I don’t want anymore muffin," I grouch, "I want _you_.”

I hear him shift.

"I’m right here, love," he whispers in my ear, making my whole body shudder.

"And here," I feel his lips suckle rhythmically at my nipple, fingers carefully pinching and pulling at the other. My core clenches and I arch my back into him, my arms desperately wanting to grip him.

"Please Loki, please…," my head tilts back and starts thrashing, needing him to finish what he’s started.

"Hmmm," he scrapes his teeth across my nipple, biting gently, then pulls away. "There’s still some muffin left, Scarlet."

I huff.

"And it makes me overwhelmingly aroused to watch you eat it," his voice is dangerous and playful.

I respond with incoherent little grunts and pleas.

More bowl scraping.

"Will you eat it for me…?" I feel strands of his hair softly brush along the tops of my thighs, then across my stomach, his breath warming along my torso and up until his mouth is millimetres from mine. "You _will_ eat it for me,” he whispers devilishly, and I feel the tip of his penis nudge between my folds. I gasp.

"Good girl….," he slips the spoon into my mouth, a small chunk of muffin left deposited onto my tongue, and deftly slips the spoon out as his length enters and stretches me below.

"Loki!" I scream, and his mouth covers mine, his tongue circling and coating itself in molten chocolate within my mouth as his penis slowly yet purposefully moves a little deeper inside of me.

His chest pushes against mine, pressing my back against the wooden chair, and his fingers trail down my sides to rest at my hips, squeezing firmly as he slides in and out, in and out of me.

He runs the tip of his tongue along my top lip, from corner to corner, then pulls his mouth away, allowing me to finally chew the blasted piece of muffin. As I swallow it, he enters me completely, reaching so far inside me I yelp in surprise.

He holds himself there for a moment. “Is that okay?” his soft voice is at my ear, and I want to wrap my arms around him. Instead, he wraps his arms around me.

I nod. “It’s…. incredible,” I manage to say, before he begins moving in shallow strokes deep inside of me.

I don’t want this to end.

I hear him gasp, his breath shaky by my ear, and I begin to grind my hips to meet his thrusts.

"Keep still," he murmurs, and I do, tensing a little as I wonder why he doesn’t want me to thrust back. Doesn’t he like it?

"This is me giving you pleasure," he says quietly, sensing my confusion. "I want you to receive it. Please."

I nod against his head, and feel myself relax a little, opening a little, focusing on the sensations deep within me.

Something begins to lap at my clit, making me tense around his length with a cry. His finger slips and crawls over me, in time with the nudges of his penis, and I feel my whole body desperately wanting to break free from its bonds.

Loki laps wetly just under my ear, and I practically scream as he tips me over into an orgasm, his penis and finger continuing to pulse until I come down.

Lost in the dark, seeing stars behind the blindfold, I feel his finger move away while he shifts, his chest moving away form me slightly while his hips push harder against mine, reaching his length as deeply as he can, and with a few quick thrusts he cries my name out, a warm pool created inside of me.

His arms wrap around my shoulders as he nuzzles into the crook of my neck, growling happily.

"Loki I need to to hold you, please," I beg, and he quickly reaches around to untie my hands. I pull him to me, kissing the side of his head.

"I’m lost for words," I say out loud, more to myself really. He squeezes me in his arms.

With a happy sigh, I pull up the blindfold to rest it on my forehead.

I see a beautiful, sweaty, messy-haired God kneeling between my legs, his hands warmly resting on my shoulders, squeezing me, smiling, curiosity in his green eyes.

I grin.

"Hello, you," I reach out to smooth his hair down along the side of his face.

He blinks and cocks his head. “Scarlet.”

I giggle bashfully, suddenly feeling quite exposed, sitting naked with my knees apart on his chair.

And there are no words needed. We both know now. I know that I can trust him, that I am safe with him, that he can take control and open me up. And he knows that I am happy to allow him to do so. That I _want_ him to do so.

Maybe there are words needed. Just two.

"Thank you," I breathe with a loud exhale, and he rests his head on my knee, looking up at me through his eyelashes. 

"My pleasure," he links his fingers with mine, and squeezes them lightly. "Thank you."


	10. Chapter 10

My body limp and happily sated, Loki attentively helped me in getting dressed, caressing my hair now and then in-between bashfully turning to find another item of clothing for me to put on.

Once I was ‘dressed’ in underwear, an under-dress and a satin robe, he led me by the hand through the chambers, scooping a couple of cushions under his arm, and took me to the balcony. He dropped the cushions to the floor and motioned for me to sit, before ferrying himself back inside, reemerging shortly with a platter of food and a couple of goblets.

I smiled appreciatively as he set the goodies down on the floor in front of me, and sat cross-legged next to me on his cushion.

"Cheeses, cold meats, quiche…," he gestured to the food laid out neatly on the platter proudly.

"Did you make these too?"

He chuckles. “Elsa cooked them. But I cut them up and put them on the plate!”

I laugh and move to pick up a goblet.

"I _did_ cook the muffins, though, all by myself.”

I smile at his earnest face, and imagine this leather-clad giant God covered in flour as he flusters with the oven controls.

I squeeze his knee affectionately. “I really appreciate it, Loki. All of it.”

His gaze locks with mine, understanding the meaning behind my words, and he blinks, resting his hand over mine, and rubs his thumb across my knuckles.

___________________________

"Do you usually have desert before your dinner?" I murmur absentmindedly, curled up full and dozy in his arms. The night air has become cooler since eating, and when we finished I scooted over to sit between his legs, his chest pressed to my back. My giant hot water bottle.

"No," he whispers at my ear, kissing the side of my head. "I’ve never been inspired to before…," his nose brushes up and down against my hair. "Before you."

I wrap my arms around his, which hold me tight just above my belly.

Below, I can hear the quiet shuffles of the palace guards as they change shifts, the occasional horse whinnying as it’s led to the stables for the night, and the occasional breeze of wind making the palace flags flap and pull against their bindings. I feel utterly, utterly content.

It’s funny to think that not so long ago I was banished from this place, with only bad memories. And now… everything feels hopeful.

"Hmmm," I shift a little, and Loki plops his head down to rest on my shoulder, his warm face next to my cheek. "So, how did it go today? Before our appetites got the better of us…?"

He nudges his temple against mine.

"We’ll be building the new library for illicit fiction in two months time," his low voice vibrates through me.

"Loki, that’s great!"

"I want to name it after you, Scarlet."

I swallow. “Loki, I don’t deserve tha…,”

"You deserve much more than just a library named after you. I want statues of you throughout Asgard."

I frown.

He nuzzles his nose along my cheek. “I’d knock down those overblown sculptures of Odin and his army generals. No one wants to look at them.” I turn to look at him, and a finger gently trails along my jaw. “You would make Asgard beautiful again.”

"You really would wouldn’t you…," I whisper, and he nods, his green eyes piercing into mine. "I thought you were joking…" He shakes his head, and bites his lip.

I groan. “Loki, I can’t let yo…,”

The jester breaks into a grin, and squeezes me tight in his arms. “I know, I wouldn’t…”

I sigh in relief.

"I do _want_ to, though,” he grumbles, and brings my hand to his lips, kissing me slowly on my palm, his gaze never breaking from me.

I giggle, and with my free hand stroke a lock of hair out of his face.

He lets my hand drop back down to my lap, and returns to resting his head on my shoulder.

"I want to build it."

"Hmm?"

"I want to build the library, with the Asgardian royal builders. I want to lay the bricks."

I smile at the thought of Loki in a yellow hard-hat.

"Will you wear low-slung jeans so your butt crack shows when you lean over?"

He chuckles. “For you? Anything.”

We sit quietly, Loki musing on the work ahead, me musing on Loki in builder-mode. Joking aside, the thought of his muscles flexing as he works makes me… happy.

A kiss on the top of my ear brings me back to my body.

"Mmm?" I turn my face a little, Loki’s lips brushing against my cheek.

"Bed," he says flatly, and deftly hooks his arms under my armpits to help me up.

__________________________________________________

A loud knock at the chamber door resounded through the quiet still of the morning, rousing both of us from a happy sleep. Bleary-eyed, I nuzzled my forehead into Loki’s chest. He patted my shoulder and started to move.

"Do not enter," Loki called out, and sat up grumpily. "What is it?"

"It’s Odin, my Lord," the guard replied through the heavy wooden door. "He is in better health and has reinstated his powers from you and your brother."

I watch as Loki’s eyes narrow.

"There is more…," the guard begins.

"Wait!" Loki calls out gruffly, and gets up from the bed. "Give me a minute."

I sit up on the bed, chewing my lip. This does not bode well.

Loki smiles faintly at me as he quickly pulls on his leather trousers, his eyes wary. He then grabs his tunic and pulls it on over his head as he walks to the door.

Damn, I love those back and shoulder muscles…

I hear Loki talking with the guard, though from where I sit it is merely a series of low masculine voices, unable to pick out any words.

Soon he closes the door and returns to me, a hand rubbing at his jaw as he looks down in thought.

I wait for him to say something, but after a while my curiosity gets the better of me.

"What’s going on?"

Loki slowly sinks down to sit on the bed, and sighs deeply. He takes my hand and presses a chaste kiss to my knuckles.

"Odin is well, it seems," his words ghost over the back of my hand as he speaks, and his eyes flick up to look at me.

"Things will be back to normal very soon." He drops my hand, still in his, down to rest on the bed cover.

I frown. “I’m sorry.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek. “It is not such a surprise. Nothing is ever easy, is it, dear Scarlet?”

His eyes are wide and glassy, and he looks like a little boy who’s been told at the very last minute that he can’t go to Disneyland, that it was all a big joke by the adults who strung him along.

I wriggle down the bed and engulf him as best I can in my arms, pressing my forehead against his shoulder.

"Does this mean he’ll reinstate the illicit fiction law?" I mumble into the fabric of his tunic. I feel him nod next to me.

Then a thought dawns on me.

"Then this means I can’t be at the palace! Surely - surely this means I will be a criminal again." I can’t hide the rising panic in my voice, and I cling to Loki’s forearms as I desperately look in his eyes for an answer, reassurance, something.

He swallows, his eyes darting between mine, and a hard look sets on his face.

"I’m going with you."

"What?"

"If you have to leave, then so will I. There’s nothing for me here now."

He gets up, and begins stalking around his bed chamber, appraising items and collecting the odd piece of clothing or book, dumping them on the bed.

I press my fingers to my temples.

"Loki, what are you doing?"

"We need to leave, today. Now." His voice is unwavering and determined.

My shoulders slump. Not again. How can this happen _again_? And my sweet Prince Loki. He should not have to flee his own palace.

I get up and block his path, placing my hands on his forearms as he carries a pair of boots. I open my mouth to speak, but he stops me before I even say a word.

"Scarlet, you will be killed if you stay here. You won’t be banished, you will be _killed_. You have been complicit in destructing Odin’s laws while he has been unwell. It will be high treason. I cannot let you stay here.” His voice begins to wobble and waver as he speaks, and I watch as a lone trickle melts down his cheek. “I have to protect you. And I am not living without you.”

I nod, understanding, and move to let him pass. He sets the boots down and wipes his cheek with his bicep, and I begin scooping up some of my clothing.

______________________________________

We made it as far as the palace gates.

A guard tipped Odin off and we were blocked by the army. _Ridiculously_ outnumbered - fifty armed guards versus us.

And now we are being dragged in chains to the Royal Council for Justice.

I  can only pray that we both get out of here alive.


	11. Chapter 11

"This is just as I’d expect from you. Thor has done nothing but improve the healthcare system while you’ve been sanctioning smut and cavorting with a slut."

I winced, not daring to turn my head to look at Loki, though I could feel him seething in his chains beside me. The crowd watching us ‘oohed’ at Odin’s words.

"No sooner have I entrusted you with some power over my kingdom, and you use it to dismantle my laws, manipulating my councilors for your own perverted ends."

I sigh, wanting to scratch at the inside of my wrist. The heavy metal chains are annoying.

"And what would you rather I had done, dear Father?" Loki drawls with a grin. "Simply act as a guard over your rules indefinitely? I forgot that you believe me to have no ideas of my own."

"And what of you?" Odin ignores Loki’s flippancy and turns his gaze to me, adjusting himself on his large seat on the stage. Thor sits mutely beside him, nibbling his thumbnail.

"Any last words before I deliver your sentence?"

I sigh heavily. Do I indeed have a parting shot to give Odin before he orders us to die?

No, I can’t think of anything.

I can only feel something. So I say how I feel.

"I hate you."

Odin chuckles, looking around at the crowd who nervously join him in his laughter.

"I can see why my so-called son likes you, Ms Rosenthorne," he shuffles some papers in his hands.

"Well then, that’s that. Loki, you are no longer, by law and or any other capacity, my ‘son’. You are to be stripped of your royal title and entitlements. You have no connection or place in the line for this throne. Do you understand? Thor is now to rule side by side with me, and is now my sole heir. You will stay within the Palace walls until the day you die, be that in servitude to us, or in prison. I will let you make that decision.

Ms Rosenthorne, I shall be lenient with you on this occasion. I know how Loki can trick young ladies such as yourself into taking actions they ordinarily wouldn’t. With that in mind, you are once more to be banished. If I see or hear of you being in the Palace again you will be killed on sight. Is that clear? Your identity will be revealed to the media and you will be made an example of, known in public as an illegal writer and anti-royalist.”

My legs tremble as I take in Odin’s words. I am relieved that neither of us is to die, yet being sent away from Loki stings my heart.

I hear a familiar buzzing sound coming towards me. Beside me, Loki yells “no!” and is dragged away, his chains clanking as he wrestles against the guards. I turn my head to watch him, and his eyes are both fearful and angry.

The buzzing sound gets louder, and I recognise it almost too well. A guard brandishing a large shaver approaches, roughly palming a clump of my hair in his hand and begins to shave my hair off.

The crowd murmur, squawk and move in their seats as they watch.  I gaze dully out at them, thinking them pathetic to get their kicks out of watching a woman have her head shaved. Do they not have anything better to do with their day?

I manage to turn my head to face Loki, who is being held still by four guards about ten metres away. His face is flushed, and his hands are clenched into tight fists amongst the chains. I give him a small smile, to show him that I don’t care about my stupid hair, that it’s okay. His shoulders shake as he takes large inhales through his flared nostrils, anger clearly surging through him.

Soon, the man moves away, and I feel the air prickle at my scalp. Heck, that damn itchy re-growth period isn’t going to be fun.

"Say your goodbyes," Odin says drily, absolutely loving every minute of this.

I stare at Loki, not wanting to say goodbye. Something inside of me, some feisty fiery part of me, will not let this be the last goodbye. At least not in front of this circus crowd and Odin.

I look pointedly at Odin, lifting my chin proudly, then turn back to face Loki, who looks murderous.

"This isn’t how I would have wanted to have said it. I’d hoped for a quiet moment by the fire, or underneath the gentle sun." I watch as Loki’s eyes start to soften while I speak, the anger dissipating, replaced with tenderness.

"I love you, Loki," I swallow. "Thank you."

"Yes, yes, very well. And what say you, my wayward son? Keep it short, I’m getting bored now," Odin huffs in his chair.

Loki snaps his head towards Odin and lunges forward towards the stage, all four guards pulling back harshly to prevent him stepping further. “HOW DARE YOU,” he thunders, the veins and muscles in his throat pulsing as red rage flushes his features.

"Take them away," Odin orders with a waft of his hand, beginning to get up, ignoring Loki as he screams at him while the guards begin doggedly pulling him back. The crowd rabble noisily and I can’t hear anything clearly.

I too am being led out of the great hall, and Loki’s attention turns to me just as I’m being dragged out backwards. “Scarlet,” I see, rather than hear, him cry out, his eyebrows dropping sadly as he half-heartedly pulls at his chains. His eyes are frantic. “I love you,” he mouths, and that is the last I see of him as I am taken away.


	12. Chapter 12

 

__

_LOKI’S POV_

"FUCK YOU," I screamed into the cacophony of sound, rising onto the balls of my feet to look past the idiot guards heads and throw hate towards Odin who was walking out of the door at the back of the raised area, Thor walking proudly behind him.

Scarlet had been rough-handled away.  All that was left of her were locks of glossy brown hair on the floor, now being trampled on underfoot by guards and the peasant-audience leaving the hall.

The image, of her hair under their dirty boots, made me snap.

I rammed myself sideways against the guard to my left, slamming him into a nearby pillar, winding him. The three other unsuspecting guards pulled along with us, sending us off balance and we toppled to the floor. I could feel the hard floor, their heavy weighted bodies over me, legs kicking, arms punching. Someone stamps on my ankle.

I could feel the chains loosening - the guards letting go now and then to recover their balance, or to strike me. My hair is yanked, pulling at my scalp, and I swear there may be some bleeding.

I curved my back and pushed off my knees, backing up against the guard behind me, forcing him to fall away, and found that there was only one guard left who had managed to hold onto my chains.

I tugged hard, my fists together, yet he was unyielding. I simply let the chains go slack and rammed the flat of my foot at his solar plexus. He let go of the chains, and I was ‘free’ to at least move of my own accord. I quickly start pulling on the chains, scooping them up into my arms so they don’t drag on the floor. They’re heavy, and could be useful weapons for my escape.

Other guards were beginning to surround, some holding back the goading onlookers, others poised with golden spears.

"Oh I do hope you’re finding this thoroughly entertaining," I spit at them as they circle, and charge in the direction of the Council’s great doorway, aiming to run between two guards.

With spectators in harm’s way, they are unable to throw weapons at me. Instead, one attempts to trip me over while the other slices the top of my shoulder with the top of their spear. It is not wholly unexpected.

My footing stumbles momentarily, and I lunge at two women who are watching nearby for support. They feign disdain as my shoulders press against their heads, yet it’s the closest they’ll ever get to royalty. The heavy chains in my arms nearly fall.

I push past them, using my balled up fists to clear people out of my way, guards in pursuit.

_______________________________

It pays to be a Prince.

I know every secret passageway in the Palace, and have a very few number of loyal staff that can be counted on.

"Master Loki!" Elsa raised her hands to tend to my wounded shoulder, then held back as I moved back slightly.

"No time for that," I grumbled. "I need a bag with coins - gold, they’re in my study desk, _The Wayward Prince_ by Jewel Garden, three maps of Asgard, matches, a knife, rope, a block of soap, a flask, and food. And a razor. Hurry.”

"Wha.. what kind of food would Master like me to prepare…?"

I scowl and look over her shoulder to see a plate of fruits and breads she had prepared for earlier.

"That’ll do. Put it all in a bag and meet me at the Palace Garden side entrance in fifteen minutes. _Tell no-one_.”

She waves her hand and rolls her eyes, turning back into my chambers to carry out her duties. Clearly she thinks I’m planning some sort of evening delight with Scarlet. Complete with kinky chains.

I make my way through the underground passages to the jail. As I walk, I use magic to heal the wound on my shoulder. There will be a red line of a scab, but the blood will stop running out and it won’t hurt any longer.

I take a chance and enter the cell corridor nonchalantly. The guards give me courteous nods, despite the chains - clearly they have yet to be informed that I am a wanted man.

I turn a corner to find Lentl sitting at his guard post, the guard who helped me with Scarlet’s initial jail break. With no words needed, he retrieves a lock breaker and begins to work on my chains. Soon, I am released, flexing my hands a little, and shake his hand warmly in gratitude. He simply nods.

Soon, I meet Elsa and give her my thanks. I send her on her way, and crouch down by a hedge to shave my head, dry, using the razor Elsa had packed for me. Part of it is for practical reasons - it should surely change my appearance drastically enough to help me move unnoticed. Yet part of it is an act of defiance towards Odin, to show my allegiance to Scarlet. I almost wish he could see me do this. But there is no time.

I climb over building walls, roofs, and trees to get to the great Palace wall. Guards, of course, lie in wait.

I look down at my attire. Reluctant to let go of my trademark green and black leather coat, I shrug out of it, now a little less conspicuously dressed in my dark green tunic and black trousers. The fabric on my shoulder has darkened by blood, a tear exposing a slither of my wounded skin. I sigh.

I find a dagger in my bag ( _thank you, Elsa, I was worried you might have given me a bread knife…_ ) and ready myself to use the razor too. I may not have spears or swords, yet I have strength, speed, and power, with more guile and cunning than any of Odin’s men.

I drop down to the ground, positioning my bag on my wounded shoulder to cover the blood stain.

I walk casually towards the Palace wall, keeping my shaved head down. I walk as if I have banded knees, my shoulders slumped, adopting the air of a simple peasant.

I spot a small group of traders talking loudly and laughing as they make their way towards the exit gate, and I begin to catch them up, walking a mere pace behind, assimilating myself with the group.

I palm the razor hidden in my palm, readying myself for the moment I will be recognised.

And yet that moment never comes.

As simply as that, I find myself leaving the Palace.

Now, to find Scarlet.

______________________________________

A good few metres away from the Palace wall, I found a tavern. It’s often used as a first port of call for people who have been thrown out of the Palace grounds - generally not crooks, just vagrants or entertainers without permits. I quickly make my way to the smelly men’s room and lock myself in a cubicle.

I have few options. I could wait near the Palace wall perimeter to catch a glimpse of her. She may be thrown out without ceremony. However, I am assuming Odin will want her to be sent as far from the Palace as possible.

That means a carriage. Jump on it as it goes past? Which exit gate will they use? Will they use a royal carriage, or a civil one so as not to draw attention?

I pull out the Asgardian maps Elsa packed. I need to take a guess at where Scarlet may be being sent.

The forests of the North, or the ice plains of the West. They’re the most likely. My father being cruel would likely send her to the inhospitable West, but I need to be sure.

I study the roads and villages of the North-West. My eyes rest on a town, where there’s well-known tavern used by Odin’s guards when they are in the area. It could at least be a hub of information.

I stash the maps away, and leave the bathroom, heading out to make the long journey at least partially by foot. I may commandeer a horse when I am a good way from the Palace.

_______________

The tavern is busy with drunk farmers and bored women looking for easy money. Brondt, the landlord, spots me from across the bar and gives me a double-take before a wry smile appears on his lips.

"What are you up to now, young Sir?" He runs his palm over my shaven head.

"Never you mind that, bar keep," I smile, and pull out the coin bag.

I pay him well to to keep me updated with any information on where Scarlet could be. I suggest plying any royal guards with stronger alcohol, and lying where necessary to extract information.

I also settle into a dark corner, waiting to see if the guards turn up.

They do. Brondt gives me a knowing look, and I nod in encouragement. I then keep my head down, pretending to be a half-asleep drunk.

Ten minutes later I sense movement near my table, and look down to see dirty, holey shoes. Not guards boots.

Brandt slides a goblet of ale onto the table, a small corner of stained paper peeking out from underneath it. 

I nod my thanks.

With Brondt back at the bar, and everyone around me engrossed in their inane banter, I unfold the paper.

Next stop, the Forests of Asgard.

_____________________________________

I hadn’t been able to bring the horse in with me. I had, unfortunately, chosen a rather skittish beast that did not like going over pine cones or stepping over branches - clearly it was used to roads. I found I was spending more time and attention trying to control the horse than actually keeping my eyes out for Scarlet, so abandoned the endevour.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. I was solely locked on one goal - to find her - and I couldn’t rest until I did. At least two days went by.

I lived off the little supplies Elsa had provided me, and as the hours passed I felt my legs start to go numb. I continued walking, not wanting to waste anytime, until a sharp pain shot up from my ankle to my pelvis, and I had to rest against a tree.

Painfully, I took my boot off.

How lovely.

My ankle is swollen, and when I try to flex it, the shooting pain starts up again.

In the fight earlier, a guard had stomped on my ankle. I hadn’t thought too much of it, perhaps I would have a bad bruise. But it seems there’s a deeper wound that’s affecting my nerves. I curse, and use magic to take the pain away. I’m too tired to fully heal the muscles.

I wipe my eyes with my hands, tired yet not tired, and get up.

The forest seems endless, and I know that it is the size of a country. This will not be an easy, or quick, journey to find her. But find her I must.

And at edge of a tree-lined cliff edge, with a view down and across to a valley swamped by the forest, I spot a feint trail of smoke pluming above the treetops.

________________________________

_Don’t get your hopes up_

I amble along, trying to quell some excitement that’s rising with the thought of seeing her.

_It’s probably an old hermit_

I grunt, and slap my face.

_I am Loki of Asgard, and I will prevail_

The words seem a little hollow and empty as I stumble along alone in the woods.

I finally approach the rundown shack, and ease my way over to the door.

_Please_

My hand bangs heavily on the door.

"S..Scarlet?"


	13. Chapter 13

_SCARLET’S POV_

I’d sat in complete silence the whole journey.

Still in chains, I listened to the loud rumble of the carriage wheels along the bumpy roads, the horses hooves clattering, and the occasional muttering of the guards steering them. They had locked me in the carriage, but thankfully had not left a guard with me. I would have hated to have been watched, and was in no mood for small talk.

It’s funny, how after having a moment of absolute clarity, commitment, truth, saying those three words, “I love you,” - having it all snatched away a moment later, it makes you realise the depth and realness of what those words mean. Part of me - a very silly, foolish and indignant part of me - didn’t care that I may never see Loki again. I know I love him, and he feels the same way about me. That is priceless. Nothing can take that away. It warms my heart. I feel glad for it.

And yet the cold reality is unavoidable as I sit here, watching the fields and mountains pass by, the light beginning to fade as night draws in. What good is that knowledge of true love now?

Hours pass until we finally come to a halt, in the middle of a very dark forest. The guards help me out with the aid of lamps, and set me free of the chains. I shiver a little in the dark, and they lead me to a small wooden cabin.

Inside it is basic - it really is just a room with a bed, a sink, a table, with an open fire. The guards show me to an outside toilet, with a well next to it. As they leave, one guard quietly hands me a bag full of vegetables. I am guessing he wasn’t supposed to, and I thank him.

And then it is just me.

_____________________________________

I breathed a silent ‘thank you’ to the heavens when I found a little box of matches in the guard’s bag of food. I started the fire, and started to potter around outside my new ‘home’, looking for firewood. I had found an axe propped up in the corner by the sink, and reasoned that chopping logs would not only be a necessity for me right now, but would also give me an outlet for my anger which I had buried, up until now.

I thrashed noisily in the night, shouting as I brought the axe down to chop the wood. Tears began to stream down my face. I was angry on every conceivable level. Angry at Odin, at life, angry that I’d ever written anything in my life, angry that Loki had brought me back to the palace to help him re-write Odin’s laws, angry at the guy who shaved my head…

After half an hour I was utterly spent, and collapsed into the crooked little bed, the fire burning across from me.

__________________________________

In the cold light of day, things seemed quite pitiful.

I had enough food to last me for a few days, and matches to last a few weeks perhaps, but I had no soap, no clothes other than the ones I was wearing, and no one to help me.

_You’ve been in a similar situation before_ , I groaned, forcing myself to get out of bed. _It’s not the end of the world_.

I decided to explore my new living area. I may be in a very faraway part of Asgard, however it is seemingly habitable, and I can’t be the only person here.

I wandered outside, viewing the large green and brown forest around me. How deep into the forest I was, I couldn’t say, but it was worth me walking out to see. I went round the back of the cabin to use the drop-pit toilet, and gave the well a try. As I wrenched the bucket up from the depths, I was relieved to see clear water inside.

I got lost for a few hours, finding nothing but more trees and yet more trees. The forest seemed safe enough, with no large creatures startling me, simply birdsong and the occasional squirrel or fox darting across my path.

Finally I made it to a small clearing, a hut positioned at its edge. I dashed across, and knocked on its door, hoping someone may be in.

There was no reply.

I quietly walked around the little hut, and noticed its sole window at the side, cracked and dusty. It looked likely that the hut had been deserted. It was certainly not too cared for.

I sighed and trudged on, being mindful of staying out too long, not wanting to be far from home in the dark.

____________________________

The day had been fruitless - apart from the hut, I had not come upon any other abode, nor shop, nor person, nor had I come to the end of the forest.

I balled up on the uncomfortable mattress and sobbed from exhaustion, and fear.

_______________________________

I ate poorly, trying to eke out my food supplies for as long as I could. I supposed that I could try and set traps to catch an animal to eat, though I had very little idea on how to do that. I did not know plants well enough to decipher which ones may be edible or poisonous.

I sat gazing at the fire. It was the only comfort I could find. It reminded me of Loki’s chambers.

I shook my head, trying not to dwell on the past, ere I would fall to pieces. I had to stay strong. I had to deal with the now.

I began to wonder if I should pick up my food bag, the matches, the axe, and head out. Keep walking. Walk for as long as it takes until I hit a new place. If I stayed here I would surely die.

With a new found resolve I began dashing around the little cabin, picking up my sparse possessions, readying myself for the journey ahead.

There’s a heavy bang at the door, making me jump and run to pick up the chopping axe. I stay quiet, pressing myself into a corner. I don’t want whoever it is to know I’m here. I feel scared.

"Ss…Scarlet?"

I lunge at the door, dropping the axe with a loud clatter on the floor, and swing the flimsy wooden door open to see an exhausted, head-shaven, tatty, and wounded Loki.


	14. Chapter 14

Scarlet - Part 14

"There you are," he grins, and my hands fly up to my mouth in shock. He takes a few steps inside, and I pace backwards too, not quite believing my eyes. His playful eyes soften and he opens his arms up, dropping his bag to the floor beside him, and gestures for a hug. I can’t help but launch myself at him, then frown as my head rests on his bloodied shoulder.

"Oh gods, I’m so sorry," I try to back away, not wanting to hurt him, yet he pulls me closer to his chest. "Oh no you don’t…," he kisses the top of my head.

"But you’re hurt!" I frown, wincing at the sight of a clotting red gash peeking through his tunic.

"Not hurt, love," he kisses my head again. "You could say this is all ornamental, now."

I shake my head a little, not understanding, yet his large hand cradles the back of my head and pulls me to rest it on his shoulder again. He starts to sway me slightly in his arms.

My hand absentmindedly stokes along the back of his neck, and I frown as I begin feeling the back of his recently shaved head.

"Your hair…?"

He nuzzles his head next to mine, the short hairs at the side of his head tickling against my temple.

"Do you like it? It’s the new rage at the Palace. Everyone wants one. They keep asking for ‘ _The Scarlet_ ’.

I start giggling, he starts giggling. Then I’m laughing out loud, running my hands over his exposed head as he bends down a little to let me touch.

Then my hands are back at my mouth again as I try to bite back tears.

"I thought I’d never see you again," I whisper against my hands, shaking my head a little, in some disbelief that he’s here.

He shuffles his feet and looks down at the ground, impishly. “Well I couldn’t let you get away with telling me you love me and then just running off before I could answer, could I?”

The edges of my lips try to smile, but tears are falling.

He takes my hands gently in his, pulling them away from my mouth, and still holding them in his, he begins to kneel.

"Loki, no…," I moan, not thinking my heart can take much more tonight. It’s enough just to see him here.

"No," he echoes, kissing one of my palms. "Hey, look at me."

I do. I look into his eyes that are still lively and full of emotion despite the tired circles underneath them.

"We may not be watching a beautiful sunset together, or lying in a field under the summer sun, but it matters naught since… you are my sun."

I close my eyes briefly, making tears brim over to roll down my cheek.

"It’s taken me a long time to be able to say this. To anyone. I had scarcely believed that I would ever be able to have this experience in my lifetime." He clears his throat, looks down briefly, swallows, then looks up at me sheepishly. I squeeze his hands.

"I love you."

The words hang in the air like precious stars. I breath them in.

I grin, my breath hiccuping a little. “I love you too, Loki.” I sink down to my knees, wanting to hold him again, but he squeezes my hands in-between our bodies, keeping me a little way apart from him so he can face me better.

"Will you have me, Scarlet? Will you permit me to build a new life with you?"

He lets go of my hands as they fly up to my mouth again.

_Yes_ I nod, barely able to breathe.

He leans over to hug me tightly, my hands still at my mouth as I start to sob with relief, joy, tenderness, and just… yes-ness.

"I love you," he whispers ardently at my ear, and I sob those three words back to him, my tears mingling with the blood stain on his tunic.

________________________________

"Take a seat, the show’s about to start," he pats the edge of the bed.

I sit down and cross my legs, while he stands a few paces in front of me with his back to me.

He begins undoing the hooks on his tunic, then peels it off over his head, revealing a muscular pale back covered in deep purple bruises, little red nicks and scabs. I feel both aroused by the sight of his beautiful sculpted body, yet also in pain for him.

"Pay attention," he says, and I watch as some of the dark red lines begin to fade, then the bruises shrink, then in seconds his whole back is pristine, begging to be touched.

My mouth hangs open.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder at me, and his face too is now free from the small marks that had been there before. “Better?” he smirks.

I bounce up to stand and run my palm over his shoulder blades, marveling at how smooth and warm his skin is.

He turns to face me, and I can’t help but let my eyes wonder over his pecs. I swallow.

"Um," I mutter, my brain no longer working.

"Um, indeed," he starts tenderly stroking along the shaved hairline that runs across the top of my forehead, then bends his head to kiss me there.

"How are you holding up, dear one?" his velvety voice warms my skin.

I close my eyes briefly, and inadvertently yawn. 

He chuckles. “Is there any magic I can give you?”

The potential innuendo doesn’t go unnoticed, however I am emotionally spent and finding it hard to stand up straight. I lean forward and rest my forehead against his collarbone.

"Come on then, sleepy kitty."

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, and walks me backwards the few steps to the bed, helping me lie down on my back then joining me,propped up on an elbow to look down at me.

"Howd’you fin’me?" I ask sleepily.

"Close your eyes."

"But…,"

"I’ll tell you in the morning."

He runs a finger up and down the edge of my nose softly, relaxing me, and after a few moments I can barely keep my eyes open.

"Magic," he whispers, and I snuggle next to him to say thank you before sleep takes hold.

____________________________________

"Mmmm," I keen into the pillow, half awake.

"There?"

"Gods, yes…," my fingers curl in pleasure. "This is quite some way to wake up…,"

He chuckles behind me, as his fingers press deep against the curves of my shoulder blades, helping iron out some of the tense muscles.

I let my eyes open just a sliver, and look out across the little shack.

The fire is healthily burning, with new logs added to it, and some fruit sits on a little table. I smile to myself, closing my eyes again, and press my back a little bit into Loki’s touch.

His hands begin wandering lower down my back, squeezing and folding, and I _purr_.

"That is a rather pleasant sound, Scarlet," he softly plants a kiss at the top of my spine, and I whimper.

"Oh yes, I could quite get used to the sound of that," his hands begin to slide around my waist, fingers trailing firmly along my ribs.

Nimble fingertips tweak at my nipples, and I squeak. “Loki!”

He chuckles and releases his hands from me. “Sorry, sweet pet. I have yearned to touch you since…,”

I turn in his arms to face him, nodding. I place my hand on his cheek, and he briefly closes his eyes, humming.

"How did you find me?"

He tells me about his escape, about being on the road and eventually finding me.

As he speaks, I am struck by the thought that he chose to try and fight his way out, he chose to come after me, despite the high risk factors and the slim chances of actually finding me. He didn’t have to - he could have stayed at the Palace as Odin ordered, or even stayed at the Palace to wreak vengeance on Odin and his cronies. But that option never seemed to have occurred to him. He just wanted to find me.

My heart swells.

"Is Odin going to come for you?"

"I very much doubt it. I would imagine he would actually rather have me outside of the Palace where I can’t create any trouble." He arches an eyebrow. "Not that that’s stopped me before…"

A cheeky palm brushes by my nipple, and I giggle. I let my hand wander down to investigate his crotch, but long strong fingers hold my wrist, stopping me. I look into his eyes, confused.

"As much as I want to bury myself inside of you right now," he purrs, rolling me over onto my back, "a creature as delectable as yourself should be loved in better circumstances than these." He pins my hands up by my head and stares down at me. I look away momentarily, disappointed.

"You deserve soft sheets under your body," he rests his forehead on mine, looking earnestly at me, trying to make me smile. "And if we are to use the furniture, it shall need to be more robust….," I giggle at that.

"Breakfast," he kisses my forehead, and squeezes my hands gently before releasing them. "You’ll need your stamina for what I have planned."


	15. Chapter 15

 

Scarlet’s POV

“On the table… then tie you to the side table…”

I tighten my grip around Loki’s shoulders as he steps us over a thick branch lying across our path. The branch cleared, he readjusts my thighs around his hips, then carries on his musings as he piggy-backs me through the forest.

“… standing against the wardrobe…. Bent over a stool…”

I giggle, my mouth at his ear. “I’ll be too tired,” I protest meekly.

“Nothing a nap won’t fix,” he mumbles, then continues.

“On the stairs…. _In_ the wardrobe… ah, there, Scarlet! Do you see?” He animatedly nods his head, and I look up ahead through the scattered trees towards what looks like a wood cabin.

Our new home.  
______________________

Loki had wanted us to shift to a new spot, just in case Odin did decide to come after either of us. So we had spent the past two days traipsing through fields and forests, heading towards a small lodge Loki had ownership of that he had bought many years ago. He told me that he had hoped to have used it as a place to go to for some peace, away from his family and the Palace, however had never had a chance to.

Still holding me up, he fumbles with the old lock on the wooden front door, then kicks the door open, soon settling me back down on my feet. I stretch, then yawn loudly. It’s been a long couple of days, and last night we slept on the forest floor. I could do with a bath and a decent night’s sleep.

The cabin is fairly big, bigger than it looked outside. The ground floor is open with a kitchen area, a fireside, and steps leading up to the first floor. The air is cool, and everything is covered with greying dust sheets.

Loki strides over and starts sweeping the sheets off, small puffs of dust flying into the air as he goes. I see wooden and wrought iron pieces of furniture, that look crafted and grand, with heavy fur throws on them. A wooden love seat with a reindeer pelt. An off-white thick fur rug that Loki unrolls to set in front of the fireplace.  

The cabin starts to feel more homely.

“Well. What do you think?” Loki asks, folding a dust sheet as he waits for my response. His face is so expectant, so attentive to how I’ll react.

“I suppose it’ll do, for now,” I sigh, shrugging my shoulders. I see his shoulders slump, and I run to him, launching myself at him into a bear-hug.

“I love it,” I kiss the confused expression off his face.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” I bite my lip. “I was just playing with you.”

“Hmm,” he growls, and rocks me in his arms. “Then it is only fair for me to play with you, sneaky.” He rubs his nose against mine, then moves his hands from my waist to my hands, and leads me with hungry eyes towards the kitchen.

“A grand tour is in order,” he stands up straight and formal. He seems to tower next to me.

“This,” he gestures towards a wooden three-legged milking stool in the kitchen corner, “is what you will be kneeling over while I take you from behind.”

My mouth drops open, and he strides over to the kitchen sink, a window above it with views across the woods outside.

He absent-mindedly turns the taps on and off. “I will have you sit in this sink while I eat cream off of your breasts.”

I blush, feeling warmth rising in my core.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning against the sink. He drums his fingers along its edge.

“I will lick you out here, too. This way, please.” He whirls around, grabbing my hand as he passes and leads me back towards the living area. We come to a stop at the foot of a large oak coffee table.

“On your back, ankles and wrists tied to the table legs.”

I can’t help but whimper.

A large hand curls around my waist, and he pulls me to his side.

We just stand there, silently looking at this big coffee table. I bite my lip, thinking about what he may do to me on it at some point in the near future.

“It’s an antique,” Loki whispers by my ear. “Hand-carved by the finest artists of Asgard. Almost priceless. I think I shall cover your mouth with my hand while you orgasm on top of it.”

I am panting.

“Scarlet,” he whispers, devilishly, and I don’t think I can take much more of this.

“Sleep now. Come on, little one,” he tugs at my hand, and I give him a withering look. But then my body betrays me and I yawn.

“See? You need sleep now more than anything else. Let‘s get you to bed.”

I groan as he gently walks me towards the stairs.

“We can christen our new home when you wake up.”

“You promise?” I yawn again.

He pauses, turns to me, and leans in close to my face. “It would take Odin’s army to stop me from doing what I am going to do with you.”

____________________  
  
I flinch and my arms instinctively flex to grip Loki’s torso closer to me as a sharp bang wakes me. My eyes fly open as I hear the sounds of intruders crashing through the wooden front door, their heavy boots scuffing across the ground, loud male voices barking in the dark.

We both sit up in bed, and Loki pounces out from the covers to stand protectively at the foot of the bed. “Scarlet, stay back,” he calls to me over his shoulder, and before I have a moment to even think, the door to the bedroom swings open on its hinges, smashing into the wall with a loud smack.

“Seize him,” a royal guard in heavy armour lunges at Loki, a further three heavily armed guards following behind. I scream incoherently as they pull Loki’s arms behind his back, tying his wrists together in chains. He doesn’t resist.

“Leave her be,” Loki attempts to use a commanding tone, yet his voice wavers on the last word.

More guards pour in, and I find myself observed by two guards who stand either side of the bed.

Loki tries to turn round to face me, yet is restrained.

“DO NOT TOUCH HER,” he shouts, and I can see his shoulders move with the ferocity of his yelling.

I stay mute. I don’t know what to do.

The guards exchange a series of looks and nods. Then they start to retreat, taking Loki with them.

“Loki, no!” I cry out, and climb out of the bed, running towards him. Two guards block me, their backs to me, at the end of the little procession that has Loki at its heart.

He is surrounded by guards - seven of them, now - and as I rush to follow them out of our little cabin, it is of no use. I can’t get past the guards to reach him.

“Loki,” I call out, hoping he can hear me above the noise of guards boots crunching across the dirt.

“Get back inside,” he shouts angrily. Tears start to blur my vision, and all I can see is a tangled mess of helmets, broad shoulders, a large palatial carriage and the forest beyond swathed in silver moonlight. I can’t even make out where Loki is anymore.

“I… can’t…,” I sob, and push my hands against a guard in front of me.

He turns and in a low voice says, “If I were you, I would do as you are told, Miss. Or would you like Odin to punish you as well?”

Before I know it, I find myself standing alone in our broken doorway, the sound of horses hooves and carriage wheels and gruff guard voices and Loki’s cries sucked away into the dark night.  
  
____________________________________

Tears. For days.

What’s happened to me?

Since when did I cry so hard like this over someone?

And over my life?  
______________________________

I’m  not sure what to do. I almost feel defeated.

I can’t see how we can ever be together. Love isn’t meant to be this hard, is it? How many times will we be ripped apart? When do you give up?  
______________________________

  
A week has passed (I think, though, it feels like a year) and my whole body aches. And as I started to get used to the aches and the tears and the lack of appetite and wanting to sleep, wanting to sleep so I can wake up and maybe things will be different, amongst all of that I noticed my heart. Really noticed my heart, for the first time maybe in my life.  
  
Straining and burning and pulsating in my chest. I could almost ignore everything else - the hunger, the sadness, the emptiness of my days - but I can’t ignore this ceaseless feeling in my heart.

As I look around the bedroom, now looking a little dusty, the air heavy, I see that there’s nothing for me here.

I close my eyes and press my fingertips to the lids, trying to press away the tiredness.

_I’ve already been through so much.  Why give up now._


	16. Chapter 16

_Loki’s POV_

“Exactly at what point do you decide that I’ve paid for whatever I’ve supposedly done?” I smirk at Thor, who stares dumbly at me through the thick pane of bullet-proof plastic. Clearly someone is feeling guilty and has decided to visit. Either that or Odin has ordered Thor to keep an eye on me.

“You know exactly what you’ve done and why you are here.”

I roll onto my side, the hospital bed bumpy under my limbs. “I didn’t kill any of Odin’s guards. I have done far worse than this.”

I hear Thor sigh and can imagine him shaking his large face.

“Odin was lenient in sentencing you to stay at the Palace, and you immediately flout his rule by fighting with the royal guards, sneaking out of the grounds and fleeing to be with…. that sex writer.”

I scowl at the wall opposite me. ‘Sex writer’.

“And what’s so wrong with me wanting to live my own life with the woman I love, dear brother?” I drawl in a mocking tone.

He pauses. “You don’t know what love is.”

I shut my eyes tightly. “And I have only you and Odin to thank for that lack of knowledge. Are you going to stay here and annoy me?”

“I want to know why you aren’t eating.”

I shrug, drawing the starchy white sheet over my body.

“A hunger strike isn‘t really a smart move, brother.”

I roll my eyes.

“Odin’s not going to set you free no matter what you do.”

I stay silent. I just want Thor to go.   
______________________________

I have a headache.  
  
I hear a mixture of voices faintly behind the plastic. I don’t turn to look. I don’t want to give any of them the satisfaction that I may care, even a tiny bit, about what they may be doing.

The voices incrementally get louder, until some woman in a lab coat is standing right beside my bed, drivelling on about liquid nutrition and my body’s capacity and other nonsense.

Suddenly I feel a sharp prick in the crease of my left elbow, and I shift my head to look. The woman’s hooked me up to a drip.

Liquid nutrition.

I weakly try to pull my arm away, yet I am handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

I look up and notice Thor watching from behind the plastic window, his arms folded across his chest.

“YOU JUST WANT TO KEEP ME ALIVE TO WATCH ME SUFFER,” I yell at him. The woman in the lab coat flinches, and starts to scuttle away.

“You are animals,” I feel my body instinctively trying to pull away from the bed, trying to regain some sense of control. It was bad enough being imprisoned here and chained up, but now I have no choice over what I consume or not.

“Why don’t you just kill me, “ I snap, my gaze boring into Thor‘s eyes. I know that he can walk out of here and he will get EVERYTHING. I have NOTHING. No choices left.

Thor looks down, then walks out of the little observation room with the lab coat woman. The usual two guards stay to watch this perverse little show called ‘let’s see if we can break Loki down until he crawls to Odin for forgiveness’.

___________  
  
 _Scarlet’s POV_

I wish I had the balls to steal a horse.

But I don’t. I don’t even know how I would go about it. And so, I shall have to keep walking, keep moving slowly down towards the palace, using the maps Loki had originally brought with him.

I have no plan on what I’ll do when I actually reach the palace. For now, the only plan I have is to get there. There’s nothing else I can think of to do right now but to find Loki.

_________________________________

“Wasting away, I’ve heard,” the young guard stubs out his hand-rolled cigarette down onto the dirt before shoving his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he muses. “I suppose his princely nature is too delicate for prison.”

“Nah, they’re not cut out for it, are they, the Royals,” the other guard laughs and leans back against the Palace grounds wall.

If I can just get past these two dimwits and slip in….

“Prison’s the best place for him. I hope he starves himself to death,” the first guard mutters.

“Might well happen son, what with that hunger strike.”

Wait, what?

“How long can you go without eating?” the guard continues, making idle chart, yet their voices fade into the background as I taste bile in my mouth.

Is Loki really refusing to eat food, while in the Palace prison?

My instinct is to run past the guards, just get to Loki. Every fibre of my being wants to rush to him, consequences be dammed.

Yet if I am caught on the palace grounds I will be shot. That was made very clear the last time I saw Odin.

Hateful man.

OK. What to do. Loki has some supporters inside the palace wall, surely? If I could find one… Maybe they could help. But how can I find any of them?

I scowl. Come on, Scarlet. You can figure this out. You didn‘t walk all this way to do nothing.

I could go to Loki’s chambers, roughly following the secret passageways from memory. But it’s likely that all his staff have been discharged, with his chambers either locked and empty or converted into spare rooms for Odin.

Drat.

But I just can’t stand here, hovering by the palace walls as people come and go, and do nothing.  
  
This is so exasperating! Damn this situation, and those stupid imbeciles that pass as royal guards. How can they joke about Loki’s imprisonment? How can people be so cruel?

“Stuff this,“ I mutter under my breath. I pick up some dirt from the ground and muddy myself up before walking past those two idiot guards and enter through the palace gates.


	17. Chapter 17

_Scarlet’s POV_

Just act casual, just act casual….

I pray I won’t bump into any of the guards who might know who I am, although I have some faith in my makeshift disguise. With my cropped hair, I probably look like a teenage peasant boy, and as long as I keep my head down perhaps I can blend in with the rest of the crowds milling around.

I pass a fruit stall and while the owner is chatting with another customer, I slip a couple of apples discreetly into my pockets.

Furtively, I then make my way to the prison entrance, a large gate flanked by two guards. I begin to cough loudly.

The guards eye me warily, and I summon up my courage to speak.

"Please sirs, I was sent from the orphanage to deliver these to the prisoners," I hold out the stolen apples to them.

The guards shift embarrassed on their spot, unsure as to how to respond. It is not uncommon for children to be sent to deliver food to the prisoners. Publicly, it was seen as a philanthropic venture that tugged at the heart strings of those who may consider adopting. More pragmatically and honestly, it was a free way to deliver goods to the prison.

"Just two apples? Where’s your apple cart?" One of the guards snaps.

I start another coughing fit. “I am unwell, sir. I had to stop on the way to rest.  When I had my back turned, someone stole my ‘barrow. All I have is what is on me. Please don’t tell anyone, they’ll kick me out onto the streets if they found out.”

I begin to fake cry, although the tears have shreds of truth in them. I’m genuinely scared that my plan might not work, and I’m worked up about Loki. I need someone to give me a break.

"You look dreadful, you’d better come in," the other guard motions, while his partner gives him a glare. "He’s just a kid."  
  
——-  
The friendlier guard leaves his partner to guard the entrance, and takes me through to the prison kitchen. It’s incredibly dirty and crampt, and smells of dust. Prisoners are only really given porridge, or watery potato soup, so to have apples is a blessing. There’s no one inside - cooks aren’t needed as the food isn’t exactly haute cuisine - the guards take turns to stick the porridge cauldron over the heat when needed.

The guard goes to the cupboard under a mucky sink. “Should have some tonic in here…” he mumbles. I swallow and look down, trying to think of what to do next. I can’t just be led to the kitchen then back out again - I need to find Loki.

“Here, drink this,” the guard hands me a small black bottle. Its contents smell like strong alcohol or witch hazel, and I pretend to gulp it down.

The guard checks his watch and sighs. “I suppose you’ve never been to the palace prison before, have you, son?”

I just shake my head, keeping my shoulders rounded to hide my chest.

The guard puffs his chest out with pride. “I suppose I could let you have a look…”

I hold my breath. Maybe I’ll get a chance to at least see Loki.

“…then we’ll get you back to the orphanage. Come on, then.”

He rests a large gloved palm on my shoulder and leads me through tothe jail corridor. I duck my head, hoping none of the prisoners or other guards may recognise me. I let my eyes flit from cell to cell, wondering which one may be Loki’s. So far I haven’t seen him.

The hand on my shoulder keeps moving me forward to the end of the hall. My heart sinks as he brings me to a stop in front of the grey concrete wall before us.

“Check this out,” the guard mumbles smugly, and pressed his palm flatly against the wall, just above my hip height.

Silver and gold lights stream out from the wall underneath his hand, scanning over his palm, then suddenly there’s a loud clunk and the wall swings open like a giant heavy door. Beyond the doorway is a stark white room, half of which is contained behind thick clear plastic. An attendant sits in a chair by the wall-door, and nods to the guard with a raised eyebrow, eying me warily.

“Apples.” The guard says with a shrug.

I can hardly hear the word above the sound of my heartbeat booming in my ears.

On the other side of the plastic wall, a figure lies under white blankets on a small hospital bed. Beside the bed is a table on wheels, with small pill containers and bottles on it. It seems the person is on a drip.

“He won’t eat them,” the attendant sighs. “You might as well keep ‘em.”

I walk forward, and carefully press my face up to the clear plastic. The figure isn’t stirring, and from this angle I can’t see their head, just a bump under covers. But a sinking feeling inside lets me know it’s him.

I hear boots stride up next to me.

“Not so powerful now, is he, eh?” The guard folds his arms.

I stay silent.

“That’s Prince Loki, that is,” the guard continues, talking down a little to me, trying to explain it to me as if I were a child. I try not to look irritated.

“He caused us no end of grief so we had to put him in here. He’s not ill, not really. Just won’t eat. See that tube there going in his arm? That’s nutrition, that is. Give me those apples.”

I swallow and pull them from my pockets. My hands are trembling.

“Ta.” The guard turns round to the attendant and walks over to him.

“Waste not want not.”

I can hear them crunching on the apples behind me and it is all I can do to not cry as I gaze at my man lying weak and motionless on the bed.

Can he hear anything behind that thick plastic barrier? I clear my throat.

“Why won’t he eat anything?” I call out, hoping Loki can hear me.

“Dunno. Could be a hunger strike, or something about a girl,” a voice speaks between munches of apple behind me.

“How long has he been like this?” The bedding start to move and shift.

“Ooh I’d say about a couple of days after we caught him it started…”

“Yeah, yeah about that wasn’t it…”

Loki shifts more and I can now see that he is lying on his front, his arms up by either side of his head, and he is turning a little onto his side to look back at me.

He looks so pale. Death-pale. And tired. Where has the playful spirit of my man gone? Who has stolen his vitality?

His green eyes bore into mine. I feel like I can’t breathe.

I want to smash down this damn plastic partition. I want to attack every person who has sucked the life out of my man.

Loki's eyes flash, and he stays stock still, simply staring at me.

“Oh he’s awake is he? Better get you out of here…” The guard firmly grips my upper arm and begins to tug me backwards towards the concrete door. My whole body wants to fight his grip, wants to stay as close to Loki as I can get, yet I have to relent and be dragged away. I look as he carefully sits up to watch me be dragged out of the room, before the large concrete wall-door separates us.


	18. Chapter 18

_Who stole my man_

I repeatedly dig into the dirt ground with the end of a twig, stabbing the earth with it, lost in thought.

_Who took Loki’s spirit…_

I’ve been here for three hours now.

The prison guards safely turfed me back out into the Palace grounds, and in a daze I found myself wandering to the Palace gardens. I’m sitting under a tree, hidden by the shade, with any luck unnoticeable to the Palace gardeners and occasional dignitary that mill about.

I have absolutely no idea what to do.

_Dig dig dig_

I have nowhere to go. Not really.

A tear splashes down from my chin and mixes in with the dirt as I poke and prod.

Another wave of sobs wrecks through my body, and I bite my fist to try and stop any loud moans from escaping.  
__________________

I scream as a large black leather covered hand wraps around my ankle and pulls me from the shadows out into the light.

“What do we have here?” The guard lets go of my ankle as I struggle to sit up. I can barely see his face with the sun strong behind him as he looks down at me. I notice another dark shadow looming behind him. Another guard.

“Please sir, I was doing nothing wrong.”

“Stand up.”

I warily get up, my heart batting against my chest bone with fear. Are they on to me? Did someone recognise me?

“Arms down at your sides. Stand up straight,” the guard orders me bossily, like an overbearing parent.

I try to comply without letting my chest betray me.

“Open your shirt.”

My eyes bulge. “Wha..?”

“Unless you want me to do it for you, but I’ll save you the embarrassment. Open your shirt.”

My shoulders sag as I begin to undo the top couple of buttons of my shirt. They’re going to see my bra. They’re going to see I’m in disguise. Who am I kidding? They already know who I am and are just dragging this out for kicks…

There’s no dignified way out of this. Except to…

…run.  
__________________

I manage to surprise them enough to get a decent head-start, my legs flying  beneath me as I cross the garden entrance and make my way out into the dusty courtyard by the Palace market. The noises of the crowd drown out the sound of the guards behind me, and I have no idea how near or far they may be.

_Just keep running._

And then I trip.

And there is a loud cracking sound at my temple.

And the last thing I remembers is the weight of a guards boot in the small of my back, pinning me to the ground.  
_________________

Soft… gentle…

I mumble and turn my head, shifting a little. I can’t tell if I’m still asleep or awake yet. I’m going to keep my eyes closed just in case

<yawns>

Just in case this is a dream.

I frown.

What’s that sound?

Someone’s… singing?

I sigh.

Am I dead? Is that what this is?

I snort. Thanks, Gods. What a way to finish off my life. Face down under someone’s foot while my man is wasting away

“Ow!” I yelp, and my eyes fly open as something stings at my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sweetling, I thought I had healed that one…,” Loki scowls, frowning, and continues to carefully smooth at the gash on my shoulder with a ball of damp cotton wool.

I gasp and my body freezes.

“Sshhh, shh- shh, it’s okay pet, it’s okay,” he whispers, and starts humming a melody.

“Loki, you’re…,” I let my eyes rove over him, my glorious Loki, and yes, it is _him_ , not the quiet empty figure I last saw being drip-fed. His skin is still pale, yet healthy, and his eyes are clear and glistening beneath his furrowed brow. His hair is back to its normal longer length, and he is wearing a dark blue shirt.

He gently runs the tip of his finger along my cheekbone. “Just relax, Scarlet, hey,” he croons, then takes my hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I nod and squeeze his hand, as he returns his attention to tending to my wound. I let my eyes momentarily drift to take in our surroundings.

It’s evening. We’re in what looks like a sumptuous hotel suite, with soft lighting. All the furnishings are a royal purple colour with gold touches here and there, and I’m currently lying in the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, tucked under a silky soft duvet. Loki is propped up beside me.

“Where are we?”

Loki pauses, and stretches to put the used cotton wool ball down on the bedside table. He then takes a clean ball out of a packet, and dips it into a bowl of warm water balancing by the edge of the bed.

“Midgard,” he raises an eyebrow slightly, while squeezing the excess water out of the cotton wool ball, and traces it along the top of my arm. It is not until now that I realise I am naked. “New York, to be precise.”

“Why… what… what happened?” I croak. “How long have we been here? How come… how did you get out?”

He kisses my bicep and hums.

“That’s a lot of questions, Scarlet.” He runs his nose from left to right along my arm.

“Let’s see. When you appeared to me in jail, something clicked.”

I frown. What?

He closes his eyes and sighs. “I had actually given up at that point. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I truly believed I would have to eke out my days in Odin’s little lab set up.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me sadly.

“I honestly could not figure a way out. Perhaps I had lost any drive to attempt to leave… But then,” he raises my hand, still holding his, to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Then you came and it was as if a fire lit inside of me.

I’d forgotten something. That there are two thing I have that those fools don’t. One…,” he closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep inhale through his nose, resting by the back of my hand. “…is you.”

He sighs. “The other,” his eyes fly open, “is magic.”

“I thought they’d stripped you of it…,”

He moves our hands up to the side of his face, so that the back of my hand rests against his cheek. “They had, dear one. So all I had to do was get it back.” He winks.

“Shortly after you left, it was time for me to be escorted to the toilet. The guards have become lazy around me, no longer on guard, thinking that in my weak state I could never possibly be a threat or worthy of their attention.

And so…,” he gently bites the tip of my index finger, “one lonely guard walked me to the cubicle. They have to take the cuffs off me. Once they had, it was rather… chaotic.” He grins wolfishly, and rests his chin on my arm.

“A few injured guards later, I made my way to the library. Behind a children’s zoology encyclopaedia I keep a small bag of rudimentary spell casting materials that aid in shifting realms…. I managed to summon up enough power to bring us both to Midgard.

I daresay luck was on our side… while I was chanting on the floor of the library, you must have been being ruffed up by guards somewhere….,” He snarls.  “Do you remember what they did to you?” He squeezes my hand and fear clouds his eyes briefly. “Please tell me it was nothing so terrible…,”

I huff. “No, no I’m okay. After seeing you they let me out of the prison, then a little later tracked me down. They chased after me and I must have tripped over… I can’t remember anything else.”

He nods. “Okay. Good. The spell must have kicked in then.”

I start to sit up. “And you? You look… well?”

“Hmm? Oh, well,” he blushes, “you should see some of the Midgardian foodstuffs they have here, Scarlet. I‘ve become particular fond of something they call ‘waffles‘.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve got your appetite back.”

He smirks. “In more ways than one.

As to your other question… we’ve been here for three days.”

Wow.

“You had been knocked unconscious, then when you came around I put a sleeping spell on you, so I could heal your wounds without you feeling any pain.”

I dare to look under the bed covers, and apart from some bruising, my body appears okay. I don’t even ache too much. “Thank you.”

Loki swiftly pokes his head under the covers too.

“Hello there,” he plants a warm kiss on my belly. I giggle.

“Scarlet?” he whispers against my stomach.

“Hmm?”

“Can I bathe you?”

I lazily stroke my fingers through his hair, musing on how it must have grown so fast. “Hmm?”

“I want to look after you. I want to… touch you.”


	19. Chapter 19

Long fingers rake through my short hair, and I close my eyes under the shower spray. The smell of vanilla and honey rises as Loki begins to lather my head with shampoo. I practically purr.

“Lean forward,” he says quietly, and his hands guide me to rest against his toned smooth body. I wrap my arms around his torso, letting my fingers stroke against his slippery back.

His fingers continue to massage my scalp, then begin to lower towards the back of my neck, his thumbs pressing gently to iron out my muscles.

I groan against him.

Bliss.  
 _________

He sweetly strokes a soft flannel across my arms, my sides, my belly, cleaning away not only the dust and sweat that have collected on me this past week, but also beginning to clear away all the crap we’ve had to go through. I feel it leave me with each stroke.

Loki kneels down before me, and continues his thorough cleansing of me, brushing the cloth down across my thighs, sweeping over my knees, and pouring down my legs to my feet. I feel beloved.

He is silent as he works, his eyes anxiously taking in every part of me, checking residual bruises and scabs. I touch his cheek briefly with my fingertips to let him know I am okay.

He lifts my feet one at a time to gently stroke the warm cloth over and under them, and once finished, kneels up to wrap his arms around my waist, resting his cheek against my stomach.

“I love you, Scarlet.”  
__________________

He cocks an eyebrow as he squeezes a large dollop of shampoo into his hand. “I know you want to wash my hair, however I can do it much quicker.”

He snaps the shampoo bottle shut and sets it back on the little rack next to the shower head.

“And the quicker I’m washed, the sooner I can make you come,” he states, matter-of-factly, before massing the gloop into his hair with a poker-face.

“Is that so?” I grin, peering up at him.

“Mmm-hmm,” he closes his eyes and darts his head directly underneath the water flow, rivers of suds splashing down across his face, dripping onto his chest. I hungrily stretch my fingers across his pecs.

Moments later, he leans away from the shower spray and looks at me.

I’m not sure if he’s going to take me right here, right now.

He playfully shakes his head, like a dog that’s just got out of a pond, sending droplets of water splattering down onto me. I squeal.

“Fuck, I’ve missed that sound…,” he murmurs, and kisses the top of my head.

I can’t stop smiling.

I look up at him, and brush his hair back from his face. “Your hair grows fast.”

He circles his fingers on the top of my shoulders. “I used magic, actually. I thought you might need something to grab onto while I‘m inside of you.”

I burst out laughing. My wonderful, audacious man. I can hardly believe this is real.

We both stand in silence, the warm water splashing down on us.

“Loki?”

“Yes, love?”

“What if…,” I squeeze myself to him closer, dreading asking this question. “What if Odin comes after us…?”

Loki kisses the top of my head and smoothes my hair down.

“He won’t,” he mumbles against my head.

“You don’t know tha…,”

“He _can’t_ , Scarlet. We’re going to be okay.”

I turn to look up at him, and am met by a boyish smile.

“Odin’s jurisdiction only reaches as far as Asgard, not here. I’ve also cast….,” his eyes look away, and he sighs lightly. “I cast a spell… well, a curse really, that means we cannot leave Midgard, either if we wanted to or if someone from another realm tried to take us away.”

I think for a moment.

“I also cast a protector spell which means if anyone from Asgard does come to Midgard, they will be unable to come within ten metres from us,” he says quietly. “They can’t touch us, Scarlet.”

I sag against his chest in relief.

“Scarlet? Are you okay? I’m sorry I’ve trapped you here on Midgard. It probably wasn’t what you dreamt of as a little girl.”

“No, no it’s…,” I try to interrupt him, he doesn’t need to apologise.

“I want to keep you safe, I don’t think there was any way we could have lived freely in Asgard.  I know I didn’t ask you first…. I assumed you’d be okay with living here, with… with me.”

I cup his face in my hands and let my eyes drink in his features. Thick locks of wet black hair cling to his temples and the side of his face.

Droplets of water trickle down his nose. He chews on the inside of his lower lip.

“Stop it,” I whisper. “Just stop it.”

I angle my face and lean in to kiss him. His lips move gently against mine, sweetly, reassuringly.

I feel him lean around me and turn the shower off. He hums into my mouth, then breaks the kiss, letting his teeth scrape slightly over my lower lip as he pulls away.

Ruefully, I smile at him. “I’m more than happy that you whisked me away to Midgard. I like it when you take control.”

He runs his tongue over his top lip.

Still in his arms, he guides me out of the shower towards a large heated rack of white towels.

He begins to softly dry me off, padding towel against my skin attentively, as he stands naked before me. I rest my palms on the top of his chest, allowing myself to feel the soft, shower-wet skin there.

His smooth hardened length bobs proudly as he moves about me, and I can’t tear my eyes away from it. My mouth wants to taste him. My hands want to pet him. I even want to smell him there.

He squeezes my backside through the towel, then, satisfied with his handiwork, swiftly runs the towel over himself, before throwing it to the floor.

We both stand naked before each other, a snap of electricity pulsing between us. I can feel it.

Suddenly, he firmly takes my hands in his and pulls my arms above my head as he walks me back to hold me against the bathroom wall, the humidity-slick tiles hard behind my back, and his mouth hungrily moves against mine. Below, his hips pulse just above mine, his thick silky shaft pushing into me.

“Need.” Kiss. “You.” Lick. “Scarlet.” His open mouth pants by the side of my mouth as he circles his hips against me. My arms want to drop so that my hands can stroke his jaw, and sensing my hands strain Loki clamps them more firmly against the wall above me. He gazes at me heatedly through his lashes.

“No touching. Not yet, kitten. Hands behind your back.”


	20. Chapter 20

_Authors note: This is not the end. Also - sex scene alert_

 

__

I frown as he releases my hands and takes a step back. I let my arms fall and clasp my hands behind my back, resting between the wall and my bottom.

Loki appraises me, his eyes roving across my body.

“Good, Scarlet,” he murmurs, and steps closer to me, towering over me, looking down at me with his head cocked to one side.

“Rest against your hands.”

I let my bottom sink back, squashing my hands up against the wall, feeling a slight dig.

He gently strokes a lock of my hair between his long fingers. “Press against your hands, Scarlet. I want you to feel a warm heavy pressure back there.”

I swallow, my eyes flitting between his which look expectedly down at me, the corners of his lips turned up in a knowing smile.

I press back, intensifying the sensation. My core is already warm and waiting, yet the rising heat now pressing between my buttocks is winding me up even more. I am a spring, tightly coiled, silently begging for some release.

“Loki…,” my voice sounds small and quiet.

“Keep your hands there,” he says in a low voice, and kneels down in front of me. He nuzzles the top of his head by the top of my left inner thigh, nudging my leg further open, then repeats the gesture on my right thigh. I sink down a little against the wall. He purrs and looks up at me.

My breaths are staggered as his large hands press against my hip bones, pushing me back against the wall, against my hands, and he begins to stroke the tip of his nose across the hairs that line the front of my mound. His warm breath floats down in puffs across my open sex, making me squirm, which only intensifies the warm pressure of my hands against my bottom.

His hands slide around to the small of my back, and his fingertips press into me there, a physical command to arch my back. My body easily complies, my head tilting back to rest against the wall, my eyes now looking up at the bathroom ceiling. I let my eyelids float shut, focusing on the sensation of warmth rising in my body, then suddenly I feel a sliver of his warm, wet tongue glide in-between my folds.

I gasp, and almost buck to collapse, yet his strong hands, still at the small of my waist, hold me up.

“Hands, Scarlet,” he warns, murmuring above my entrance, and I make my hands clasp tighter together behind me while his tongue starts to roll over my clit and entrance in a figure of eight. I keen onto his tongue, gasping, my head still tilted back, my body arching onto him.

He dips inside of me, his smooth tongue pointing as it strokes up against my walls, searching for my g-spot. He presses and massages the tip deeper into me, and I cry out his name, letting my head hang forward.

"Fuck…,” I hear him mutter, and he pulls away, panting, sitting back on his elbows on the marble bathroom floor before me. His large penis stretches up, resting against his belly. He looks up at me through hooded eyes.

“Here,” he commands, a look of challenge in his eyes. I move to him, stumbling slightly. He reaches to pull my thighs down until my knees are either side of his hips, his face inches from mine. I can smell myself on his jaw.

“Hold onto my shoulders, Scarlet. And don’t. let. go,” he whispers, watching me carefully, before sitting up a little, smoothing his hands round my waist, squeezing gently there, lowering me down onto him.

I scream as he slowly fills me up, widening me as he keeps moving further and further inside. My fingers dig into the firm muscles of his shoulders as he tilts his head back, a low gasp sounding from his open mouth. The sight of him in the throws of pleasure makes me tense around his penis, and his breath hitches.

“Ride me, Scarlet.”

He squeezes at my waist, and I begin to grind my hips up and down, over and over, at a deliciously slow pace, savouring every inch of him.

“Look at me…,” he pleads, and I gaze down as he writhes beneath me, his stomach muscles contracting with each thrust. I swear loudly.

“We will never be apart again,” Loki promises, his gaze unwavering, and as I look in his eyes I can see nothing but certainty. I believe him.

He leans forward, his mouth hovering close to my puckered nipple, as his hips continue to move beneath me. “I love you, Scarlet,” he whispers against my sensitive bud. “I want to watch you come undone when I tell you to.”

I lean back slightly on his penis, feeling the tip rub against my g spot deliciously.

“Don‘t come yet,” he growls, before gliding his lips over me and suckling me.

“Oh shit,” I pant, arching my back to push my breast closer to him, and the  movement changes the angle of his penis inside of me to hit deeper. I cry out again.

I feel the light graze of teeth across my nipple and claw my fingers at his shoulders. “Loki, please…,”

He drags his blunt nails across my hip, adding to this overload of touch, before lightly tracing the pad of his thumb over my clit.

I buck, my arms scrambling at his back incoherently, and he raises his free hand to tweak my unattended nipple. It’s too much, it’s too much…

He rolls my nipple between his teeth, sending a wave of intense pleasure down to my core, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight as I concentrate on not coming.

Seconds later his mouth is at my ear, begging me to come.

And as my orgasm hits me, he orders me to watch him.

Green, endless eyes bore into mine, his mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ shape.

His toned body undulates and thrums against me, each pulse coaxing me further and further into bliss.

I feel like white heat is soaring up through my body, obliterating my physical boundaries, and all I’m aware of are those perfect green eyes - the only things grounding me to reality, making sure I don’t float away into heaven.

I finally collapse in his arms, whimpering, my brain unable to create a single thought. Loki moves about me, his body warmth and scent enveloping me, and then I begin to feel heat deep inside of me.

“Scarlet…,“ he moans, gently biting the side of my neck as he comes.

Panting.

Squeezing.

Nuzzling.

A happy sigh.


	21. Chapter 21

 

“Rule Midgard.”

“Really?”

Loki’s clean naked body lies long and warm behind me as we lie on our sides. The hotel bed is smooth and pristine, and I can smell a mixture of fresh linen and our sex-sated bodies. It’s an addictive combination.

His fingers are intertwined with mine, our hands clasped close to my face, and I watch as his thumb runs over my knuckles.

“If not Asgard, then why not here? It makes perfect sense.” He shifts behind me.

“You’re joking, right?” I laugh nervously and start to regret asking him what he wants to do next.

“Perfectly serious, Scarlet,” he plants a slow, lingering kiss on my shoulder. “To my mind, the Midgardians are lacking a sufficient ruler.”

I huff, and start to shift onto my back, looking up at him as he lies on his side next to me.

He runs a fingertip along my eyebrow. “Why the frown, my love? You will rule beside me. You can have any land you wish. Why, you can rule London, Paris, Tokyo…,”

“Loki….,” I sigh, wiping a hand over my eyes, “is this really what you want?” I’m sure he may make a good… ‘ruler’. It just seems like such a palaver. And after what we’ve been through, I would have thought some quiet time would be more palatable.

“Hmm…,” I hear him shift beside me, then light fingertips begin tickling at my side.

“Do you really think I want to rule Midgard, dear one?” he asks in a mock-sinister voice.

“Stop it Loki,” I manage to pant out between ticklish squeals.

“That I escaped my Princely duties with you only to trap myself in another system of power?”

He rolls on top of me, his fingers still at my sides, making me buck under him.

“Noooo…..,” I thrash, laughing.

“There is only one…. giggly little kingdom I want to rule,” he leans down and his fingers slow to a light stroking along my ribs. His green eyes blaze, his face inches from mine. I swallow.

“Pet, I care naught for those stupid political games,” he whispers. “The hunger to prove myself was an illness Odin wished me to inherit. However, it seems my true cravings are a little more… rebellious.”

He kisses me softly, with a closed mouth, on the lips.

“Freedom,” he rubs his nose against mine.

“Illegal fiction…,” he winks, before his wet tongue traces across along my jaw, his mouth edging closer to my ear.

“…and you,” he breathes.

I nuzzle my head next to his, and let my fingers thread through his soft hair.

“We can build our own palace here,” he mumbles, sighing contentedly on my shoulder. “I like this bed. I like you in this bed. This would certainly do. It would do very well indeed…,” his words trail off into a yawn.

“We can’t really live in a hotel, baby.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not really all that homely, as lovely as it is.”

Loki  shifts, his face hovering over mine. He pouts. “But they feed us.”

“We can cook for ourselves…”

Loki frowns.

“I can teach you.”

He drops his face onto my chest, resting his cheek there, and harrumphs. “I might have to drag Elsa out of Asgard.”

I swat his bicep with my hand. “You are hopeless, Loki,” I chuckle.

“Where, then?” His silky voice quietly asks.

I wrap my arms around his back, holding him to me.

“Somewhere that feels like home.”

"Would you like me to magic you up a house?"

I have to stifle a giggle. He sounds about five years old.

"That’s very sweet, Loki…."

He shifts his head to look up at me. “Or maybe I could build one? I never did get to build that library on Asgard…” He frowns. “I could build a house with a huge library for us.”

I grin.

"And I could also build a couple of large reading tables….," he shifts forward, his lips grazing along the bottom of my jaw back and forth as he muses.

His voice is low, almost a whisper. “Yes, that would do very well. I have thought about taking you on top of a library table while you recite erotic fiction.”

I swallow. His mouth moves to my ear, and I can feel his breath warming the side of my neck there.

"It would become harder for you to concentrate on reading as I toy with you, however I would stop to tease you if you strayed from reciting those filthy words."

He pulls away, then slinks off the bed, stretching, before sauntering to the bathroom.

I just gape at him as I watch his strong back, perfectly rounded derriere and lean legs disappear behind the bathroom door. The man never ceases to surprise me.


	22. Chapter 22

“Close your eyes.”  
  
 _Mmmm_.  
  
I let my eyelids drop, snuggling in to Loki’s embrace. His body warmth and the hotel bed duvet are making me drowsy.  
  
He kisses the top of my head, and I feel his breath against my hair as he murmurs.  
  
“What would your ideal home be?”  
  
Hmmm…  
  
“It could be anything. A palace, a cabin in the woods, this hotel. Somewhere in this city, or perhaps elsewhere…?” he prompts.  
  
I wrack my brain trying to think of an ‘ideal home’, and feel overwhelmed. I don’t know. I’ve never been in a position to make such a choice before. On Asgard my means dictated where I could live, up until I was caught writing illegal fiction, and then my fate was in the hands of Odin.  
  
I had had dreams, of course, now and then, of what might be nice. A spot by the ocean, a fancy apartment near the Asgardian Palace, however I am yet to truly know what Midgard has to offer. Perhaps I need to research…  
  
“Scarlet?” Loki whispers, pressing his lips to my head gently. “You can say anything.”  
  
I nuzzle in closer to him and say the first thing that comes into my head.   
  
“I want an open fire.”  
  
He chuckles. “Duly noted. Anything else, my pet?” He begins absentmindedly stroking the back of my head.  
  
“Lots of light. Lots of open space. Lots of furry things….,” I stifle a yawn.  
  
“Furry things? Kittens?”  
  
“Soft blankets and furry rugs and cushions….”  
  
“Mm-hmm. I like soft furry things too.” His free hand starts to travel down  to brush across the hair between my legs.  
  
“Loki,” I squirm, and he chuckles, letting his hand move up to rest warmly against my hip.  
  
“Sorry, dear one, I could not stop myself.”  
  
We’re quiet for a moment, and I listen to the sound of his breathing as his chest rises and falls.  
  
“How about you? Where would you like to live?”  
  
He shifts his head down to kiss my shoulder. “I used to yearn for the Palace. Yet that building has only brought me pain.”  
  
I reach up to stroke his hair.  
  
“And pain for you too, Scarlet,” he squeezes me gently. “For which I will always be sorry. And yet now the Palace no longer holds a spell over me, my mind is quite blank.”  
  
I hum in empathy.   
  
“A library. An open fire. A soft rug for us to…. relax on. A comfy bed for… sleeping. Yes, we might not need much, my angel.”  
  
I yawn. That sounds lovely. Simple and uncomplicated.  
“C’y or c’rysy?”I drowsily mumble into his chest.  
  
He snickers. “Someone sounds sleepy…”  
  
“Mmm? Sorry, I meant city or countryside?”  
  
He sighs, resting his head next to mine. “I think you deserve some quiet time. Can you imagine a safe sanctuary somewhere?”  
  
I let myself think back to when Loki took me to his secret lodge in the Asgardian woods. I would have happily stayed there with him, if those guards hadn’t burst in on us. All it had needed really was a sprucing up with some fresh flowers in the antique vases and it would have been just fine….  
  
“Mmmm, I see it too, Scarlet. Would you like to go there now?” Loki whispers next to me.  
  
Before I have time to comprehend that he’s been reading my thoughts, I feel the texture of the duvet on top of me change and the slightly stuffy smell of the hotel room becomes fresher with a hint of wood.  
  
“Open your eyes, Scarlet. Welcome home.”  
  
____________________________  
  
“Where are we?” I start to sit up, Loki moving with me to caress my shoulders in reassurance.  
  
“The British countryside.”  
  
“What?!” I blink, my brain still finding it hard to keep up with his magic.  
  
“While I was tending to your wounds, I also thought about your writing. A couple of your works were set here, I am sure. ‘The Misplaced Crown’, and another one which involved hay bails and a riding crop….,”  
  
“Loki,” I giggle, as my eyes adjust to the darkness I can make out that the bedroom is quite similar to the one in his little lodge on Asgard - rustic, cosy, solid wood furniture covered in fur throws.  
  
“I wondered if you would like to go to this Midgardian place that you had written about yet never visited. I snuck in a couple of quick trips here while you were sleeping off those wounds.    
  
Midgardians are a funny bunch. They advertise the strangest things on little cards in shop windows. I found a farmer who had an old lodge he no longer wanted, and so now…. well,” he smiles, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck. “It’s ours.”  
  
I grin.  
  
“Loki, this is …. Insane.”  
  
The tip of his nose pauses, and he swallows nervously.  
  
“In the best way possible!” I squeeze him tight, wanting to go explore.  
  
As if reading my thoughts, he sprawls his body over mine, sinking me into the mattress.  
  
“I can show you around in the morning, Scarlet,” he murmurs into my neck. “And introduce you to the sheep.”  
  
I make a sound that’s a mix between a gasp and a goose hooting.  “There’s sheep?!!”  
  
He chuckles against my body, and I feel two warm palms curl around my wrists.

“Yes, dear one. In the morning I will attempt to make you a cup of tea, before escorting you down to the meadow to pet the sheep. As for now,” he kisses my jaw softly, “sweet dreams.”


End file.
